Invincible Shield
by White Eyebrow
Summary: To find out if Hawk is stealing from the public coffers, Jinx has to go back to the beginning. In the process she may find that everyone has skeletons in their closet. Season 3, Episode 2, Sunbowverse. Story is complete! I hope it's received well. (Image source:www . publicdomainpictures . p?image 5851&picture shy-girl)
1. Chapter 1

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Chapter 1

GI JOE Headquarters – November 1, 1989

_...tick...tick...tick...tick..._

The sound of the wall-clock had become deafening as the hours droned on for the finance clerk. Only the scratching of her pencil, as it glided across the form, provided relief. She was forced to stop writing, however, when the tip of her lead broke. As she reached in her desk drawer to get her sharpener, a katydid on the windowsill across the room distracted her. As she turned the pencil against the blade, she watched the bug crawl back-and-forth along the ledge of the open window. A smile came across her face. The blade of the sharpener, the chirping of the katydid and the ticking of the wall-clock made for a unique harmony: a harmony that can only be appreciated by boredom. She reached into her desk again, this time grabbing a rubber band. She stretched the band between her thumb and index finger and took aim. The projectile shot across the room when she released it – knocking the unsuspecting bug out of the window. It then deflected off the pane and ricocheted back across the room and into the clerk's waiting hand. She replaced the rubber band and finished sharpening her pencil.

_...tick...tick...tick...tick..._

It was a welcome distraction, but she was eager to get back to her reports: not for the sake of the paperwork, but rather for the refuge from the quiet din that putting pencil to paper offered. Given the choice, she would much rather be going through one of BeachHead's all-day PT sessions. She was wired for moving around; not sitting behind a desk all day. When she finished the last page, she picked up her pen and signed it. After time-stamping the report and placing it in her out-box, she glanced at the wall clock – she couldn't believe that with all her work finished, that there was still three hours left in her workday. She looked back-and-forth between the wall-clock and her wristwatch to confirm that the time was accurate and that the second hand was indeed moving in proper one-second intervals. She rested her chin in her hands and let out a sigh - blowing back a tuft of hair that had fallen in her eye.

_...tick...tick...tick...tick..._

In the interim, she decided to re-organize her desk – again. Unfortunately, everything was already in place and could not be optimized further - everything except her nameplate. She noticed it was set slightly askew from the edge her desk. She picked up the plaque and wiped the dust off with her sleeve. With her fingertip, she traced the outline of the letters that spelled her name:

CPL. KIMIKO AKAMATSU

It was a designation indicative of the formal atmosphere exercised in the office where she now worked. Given the choice, she preferred to be called by her GI JOE code-name:

"Jinx!"

Startled, Jinx looked up from her nameplate to see Amy, the office manager, struggling with boxes of office supplies. Jinx's muscles tensed as she bolted from her desk; she moved swiftly to the counter that separated her from Amy. Her body, hungry for exertion, involuntarily vaulted over the counter with undue vigor. She landed, effortlessly, next to Amy and caught a box of toner that fell from Amy's arms inches before it hit the floor.

"I...uh...thanks," said Amy, in astonishment.

"You're welcome," said Jinx, as she placed the toner on the counter-top. She blushed when she saw Amy's reaction to her acrobatics and added, "...Girl Scouts."

"Oh..." she said, apparently satisfied with the explanation. She placed her box next to the toner on the counter.

"You shouldn't try to carry so much at one time."

"You're right," Amy replied. "But you know Lt. Jenkins' philosophy about being efficient." She opened the box and pulled out a stack of envelopes. "I've just been swamped today, and I still have to mail out these disbursements..."

Jinx raised an eyebrow, as if an opportunity had suddenly presented itself. She watched thoughtfully as Amy thumbed through envelopes, "Why don't you let me deliver those for you?"

"I don't want you to go through all that trouble."

"No trouble at all," she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I have to go to Hawks office anyway to get him to sign off on some paperwork – efficiency right?"

"Right," Amy said. She smiled in appreciation as she handed Jinx the envelopes and a delivery log.

Jinx collected the rest of the paperwork in her out-box and made her way to the exit. She was careful to keep an outward appearance of indifference; inwardly, however, she was glad to get out of the office for a change. When she opened the door to leave, she made sure to close it quietly behind her so as not to draw attention from Lt. Jenkins - whose office was situated near the exit. It wasn't because what she was doing was dishonest, but rather because she wasn't prepared to justify leaving her desk in the middle of the workday to run ancillary errands. The door closed without a sound. She released the doorknob slowly and the latch engaged with a quiet but audible 'click'. She looked into the frosted pane to see if anyone noticed her departure inside. Her eyes focused on the letterhead printed on the glass:

Special Branch - 261st Finance Brigade

Satisfied that she was clear, she made her way down the hall and to the elevators leading to the common area. If she planned her route just right, she could kill at least two hours before going back. She let out a sigh as she let her thoughts wander: she now felt content like the locust on the windowsill – for now time was no longer an enemy.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

She left the common area and walked outside on the path leading to building six - otherwise known as the Motor Pool. It was a bright and sunny day and Jinx looked skyward to take in the warmth of the sun. The administrative offices were kept at a nippy sixty-five degrees, so the heat of the day made for a comfortable transition. Further along the path, she noticed that Mutt and his guard dog, Junkyard, where approaching. As they passed each other, she gave him a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. She was put off when Mutt returned her greeting with a glare. Jinx shuddered and gripped the clipboard she was carrying tighter to her chest when she heard a menacing growl as they parted ways. She couldn't tell if the growl came from the man or the dog. She continued on to the motor pool; the warmth of the desert sun was starting to cause beads of sweat to form on her brow.

When she made it to the entrance of building six, she went directly to CoverGirl's office. She wasn't surprised that CoverGirl wasn't there: anyone who's done a stint at the Motor Pool knew that CoverGirl spent most of her time in the garage. The corridors of building six, like the common area, were sparsely populated. As she walked the halls on the way to the garage, she realized how much she missed working here. She passed a corkboard when she turned the corner and paused to look at some of the pictures that were posted. The carefree camaraderie of the JOEs in the collage stood in stark contrast of the prim-and-proper atmosphere of the finance corps office. She was surprised to see that there was even a picture of _her_ standing in front of an old HAVOC – she never was able to get that junker to work. Above her picture, her eyes were drawn to a somewhat larger photo placed in a position on prominence in the center of the board. The three JOEs in the photograph were posed lightheartedly standing in front of a MOBAT; presumably, the picture was taken right before a mission. According to the caption, the soldiers Clutch, Grunt, and Steeler are officially listed as MIA. However, from the short time she spent in the motor pool - amid the whisperings of her colleagues - she got the impression that the circumstance regarding their disappearance was more mysterious.

She continued lazily to the garage entrance just across the hall. Her eyes were still trained on the corkboard, so she wasn't looking where she was going. She came to an abrupt stop when she bumped into something solid. At first she thought she walked into the wall, however, when she snapped her head forward, she saw that it was RoadBlock. She gasped in surprise and dropped her clipboard. She felt embarrassed as it echoed loudly in the empty hallway when it struck the floor.

"Hello Jinx." He reached down, grabbed the clipboard and handed it to her.

"Uh, hello Staff Sergeant. Sir." She blushed as she took the clipboard – so much for her honed ninja reflexes.

"Just 'RoadBlock' will do kid," he said, with a reassuring smile, before walking off.

She let out a sigh when he was out of earshot – it was odd to see anyone outside of maintenance in the garage during the day. With RoadBlock being a team's cook, he was the last person she would have expected to run into. She didn't bother to dwell on the incident further when she opened the garage door and was greeted by the familiar scent of motor oil and burnt rubber. She made her way up the main driveway, waving to some of the familiar faces she used to work with: CrossCountry, HeavyMetal and CrankCase. They all waved back, but gave her odd glances as they did so.

When she came upon CoverGirl, she found her busy working from the undercarriage of an AWE-Striker. When she "coughed" to get her attention, CoverGirl slid out from under the vehicle and sat up. She removed the scarf tied around her head so as to unfetter her full auburn hair – allowing it to hang freely. Her face and coveralls where stained with grease and oil. If Jinx didn't know any better she would have thought that every spattering and every smear on her person was placed there by design. Because, despite being imbued from head-to-toe in grime, CoverGirl looked absolutely stunning. That was just one of the many reasons why Jinx could not relate to the ex-model. There was just something about her that rubbed Jinx the wrong way. They were cordial enough to each other, but when Jinx first came to work in the motor pool, CoverGirl, in her own way, made it clear that she was the Alpha-Female.

"Oh, hi Jinx... I almost didn't recognize you in your DoD duds."

It was then that it hit her: she forgot that since she joined the finance corps, that she was required to wear the same black ACU's assigned to the rest of the support personnel. That explained everyone's odd behavior: they probably didn't recognize her at first. She cursed inwardly; being the last of the rawhides, she had a hard enough time fitting-in without having to contend with the stigma of being a Blacksuit.

"Can I help you?" CoverGirl asked, with her hands on her hips while tapping her foot.

"Oh sorry," Jinx replied, snapping out of her reverie, "I have a check for you." She handed her an envelope and the clipboard.

"This is a nice surprise. It's been so long; I've almost forgotten I had this coming." CoverGirl signed the clipboard and handed it back to Jinx.

"'Reimbursement for damage waiver?'" Jinx said quizzically, reading the memo item on the clipboard. "Have you guys been taking the AWE-Strikers on joyrides again?" she asked with a grin.

"No." CoverGirl said, dismissively.

"Well, sorry about the wait. We've been backed-up." She hoped that CoverGirl wasn't offended by her previous comment. She meant it as a joke, but CoverGirl didn't seem receptive to her humor.

"Not a problem. We've been running behind schedule ourselves." She took off her gloves and placed them on a nearby worktable before wiping her face off with a towel, "We have until the end of the month to finish de-milling our surplus vehicles before carting them off to Sierra Army Depot."

"Oh? Do you guys need a hand? I have some free time after my shift--"

"No, that won't be necessary," CoverGirl interjected nervously. "We've got it covered...but thanks."

Jinx, interpreting CoverGirl's curt response as rejection, left without addressing her further - her anger increasing with each step she took. Every time she tried to reach out to her and be civil, she was reminded of why the woman infuriates her so. She was so upset that she didn't bother to acknowledge the rest of the staff as they waved good-bye to her.

Upon leaving building 6, Jinx headed for the training hall on the other side of the base. This time the heat of the afternoon sun wasn't as pleasant for her as it was the first time around. She wasn't following the most efficient route by delivering to BeachHead next, but she wanted to maximize her departure time from the grind of the finance office.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"Alright you mute maggot! You've had this a long time coming!"

Snake-Eyes and Sgt. Slaughter circled around each other. The soft mat that both men tread on creaked quietly under their feet. The combatants stopped circling and squared off. Slaughter stood with a modified kickboxing stance: his weight was evenly distributed on both feet, his arms were outstretched at mid-length, and his hands were slightly cupped palm-downward. Snake-Eyes, on the other hand, stood relaxed – employing no obvious technique; his arms were hanging at his sides and swayed - as if caught in a breeze.

Slaughter rushed him, closing the gap with ferocious speed. He got closer and closer until...he abruptly stopped his advance. The men were now standing less than two feet apart – the air between them was electric. Slaughter betrayed a grin of approval: when a man of his size charges, most fighters either make a mistake by reacting too quickly, or simply retreat in panic. Snake-Eyes did neither. He was still standing relaxed in the same spot on the mat – after all, he had no real reason to move yet.

Slaughter knew, of course, that Snake-Eyes was waiting for him to attack. Also, at the risk of over-analyzing, he realized that Snake-Eyes knew that he was itching to throw the first punch.

Since both men knew how this was going to start, that made for a simple equation: attack faster than your opponent can react. In this regard, Slaughter did not disappoint. He threw a blindingly fast lunge punch aimed dead center for Snake-Eyes' chest.

Snake-Eye's reacted by shifting slightly on the heels of his feet; turning his torso at a thirty degree angle. The movement was hardly perceptible, but sufficient to bypass most of the force. Before Slaughter could recoil his arm, Snake-Eyes dropped into a low stance as he entered toward Slaughter's exposed side. His chest grazed against Slaughter's arm as he leaned under the punch to deliver an elbow-sidekick combination.

Slaughter stumbled backward from the force of the kick. His brain hadn't registered the blows landed before Snake-Eyes retreated out of range. Slaughter smiled, stood up straight, and let loose a long protracted battle cry: the _dance_ had begun. Slaughter came at Snake-Eye's hard – there was no strategy, just old-fashioned fisticuffs.

Snake-Eyes gave as good as he got; both men seemingly held nothing back. Slaughter set the pace of the fight by raining down an unending hail of punches and kicks: eventually one of them was bound to get through. When that happens, Slaughter would make his move.

Snake-Eyes was forced to go on the defensive by either dodging or deflecting Slaughter's attacks. The punches that he managed to sneak in merely bounced off Slaughter's dense musculature. The only thing that kept Slaughter at bay was the occasional well-placed fingertip strike to a vital nerve cluster.

As the minutes passed, it looked like a stalemate. Slaughter was unable to get past Snake-Eyes' defenses, and Snake-Eyes' attacks were seemingly ineffective.

In desperation, Slaughter raised both arms high (as if attempting a bear hug) and rushed Snake-Eyes with his torso exposed. As he hoped, Snake-Eyes found it too tempting a target to ignore and delivered a sidekick to Slaughter's open mid-section. In anticipation of the attack, Slaughter bore down and engaged every muscle in his torso. Upon impact, he exhaled and bucked his hips forward to push the force of the kick back to its point of origin.

When Snake-Eyes stumbled backwards off-balance, Slaughter saw the opening he needed. He bent down, digging his fingers in the matting, and pulled it out from under Snake-Eyes' feet. Instinctively, Snake-Eyes did a back flip just before the jerk of the matting would have compromised his footing. He alighted to his feet on the now exposed hardwood flooring, but Slaughter kept the pressure on by tackling him before he could square off into a stable stance.

As they fell, Snake-Eyes twisted in mid-air to keep from being sandwiched between the hard floor and 230 lbs. of meat. Both men crashed on their sides and rolled to their feet, but Slaughter managed to grab a hold of Snake-Eyes' arm and began the crank it at the wrist. Snake-Eyes dropped into an extremely low and exotic-looking stance with his free hand outstretched perpendicular with respect to Slaughter.

Slaughter readied himself in anticipation of some sort of ninja tactic. However, in an uncharacteristic display of force, Snake-Eye turned into his shoulder and tried to wrestle his arm free. In response, Slaughter re-asserted his grip and supinated the arm completely at the shoulder. Snake-Eye's arm was hyper-extended to its limit. Muscles and tendons strained; bone grinded against bone. Slaughter continued to crank the arm harder until...

_TAP...TAP...TAP_

Snake-Eyes gave the signal of submission by tapping the ground with his free hand. Slaughter immediately released the pressure and helped Snake-Eyes to his feet. The training hall was suddenly in an uproar – it looked like half the JOE's on base showed up to watch the fight. Half the crowd was cheering while the other half boo'ed loudly – apparently, the audience was evenly split as to who the victor would be.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Slaughter said. He gave his training partner a slap on the back, "Thanks for the workout Snakes."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Jinx had entered the training hall just before the fight and was watching in a remote corner when it began. This was the first time she had seen Snake-Eyes in action, and by all accounts, the rumors she heard of him being a ninja were true. However, the outcome of the battle left her confused. She decided to ponder the details of the fight later when she caught a glimpse of BeachHead on the other side of the hall. She followed him out of the room; Slaughter's booming voice could still be heard echoing from the hallway outside:

"Okay, which one you maggots is next?...C'mon you all have to go through me to pass your hand-to-hand...You think I'm too hard?...That's nuthin' compared to what Cobra's gonna do to ya!...You there Lifeline!...I see you there hiding behind Lady-Jaye!...Come here milksop!..."

Jinx had since lost sight of BeachHead and struggled to catch-up. When she rounded a corner, she heard voices coming from a lounge across the corridor and decided to investigate. She came across a group of JOE's congregated in the center of the room. Amid the gathering, seated at a table, was Ace counting a stack of money. When she walked in, a hush fell over the crowd as they all stopped to look at her. When they recognized her, they eventually went back to what they were doing, but kept their voices low. On a TV screen in the corner of the room, she could see live video broadcasted from the training room. It dawned on her that someone spliced into the security camera feed (she was relieved to see that Slaughter was taking it easy on Lifeline). It was obvious from the setup that she walked in on a betting pool – no doubt over the fight between Slaughter and Snake-Eyes. She didn't know the names of most of the JOEs huddled around Ace, but she did recognize Slaughter's Renegades: Taurus, RedDog, and Mercer, who had apparently come to collect their winnings.

"Here you scurvy crop-duster," ShipWreck said, throwing a pile of crumpled bills at Ace. "I hope you choke on it!"

"It's all good Hector," Ace said. He bent down to pick up some of the money that had fallen on the floor and started to straighten them out into a neat stack. "I'm never too proud to take money from a swabbie."

"That's what happens when you bet on a loser," said Taurus, as he waved his winnings in ShipWreck's face.

"Watch your mouth baldy," Shipwreck spat back. "Sgt. Slaughter wouldn't've won if he hadn't cheated!"

"What do you mean _cheated_?" said RedDog. "The Sarge's hand-to-hand is unmatched."

"I wouldn't expect _you _know about fair play RedDog," ShipWreck countered. "You weren't known for that when you were in the NFL either."

Jinx looked on as ShipWreck was now almost nose-to-nose with RedDog. When she was dating Falcon, she heard stories of the Renegade's ruthlessness in battle – with RedDog being the worst of the lot. She figured that the only thing keeping him from tearing into ShipWreck was the fact that a large bare-chested marine and a chopper pilot with a cowboy hat were standing behind the sailor. Similarly, Taurus had RedDog's back, however, Jinx noticed that Mercer, the third Renegade, was sitting quietly on a sofa - listening with curiosity, but opting _not_ to take part in the "discussion".

"...And since when does a _ninja_ fight fair?" said RedDog. "It's not hard to win when you hide in the shadows to slit your enemy's throat while he's sleeping."

"Yeah, well I hope for all your loyalty that The Sarge at least gives you guys free reach-arounds."

"Listen my friend, it's not like we're calling him a 'sissy-boy'," said Taurus, as he stepped between ShipWreck and RedDog in a placatory gesture. "All were saying is, all that ninja hocus-pocus is fine for the dojo, but in a real fight it's nothing special..."

Jinx had become bored with all the machismo: there was so much testosterone in the room that you could cut it with a knife. It was obvious that BeachHead was not here, so she decided it was time to look elsewhere.

After some wandering, she eventually tracked down BeachHead standing outside the men's locker room. She was about to approach when she saw Snake-Eyes exit the locker room. When BeachHead turned to face him, it became obvious to her that he had been waiting for him. As a result, she decided it would be prudent not to disturb them by staying at a discreet distance.

"Hey, I wanna talk to you."

Snake-Eyes stopped and turned to face BeachHead. He then started to sign at him. Jinx didn't understand sign language herself, but saw that it wasn't a problem for BeachHead.

"This won't take long. I see that Hawk has renewed your contract - against my better judgment. The old man has always had a soft spot for you and I never understood why."

"..."

"Be that as it may, now that Flint is the Chief, that means _I_ will be leading the majority of the field missions. I want to make sure we understand each other before things come to a head."

"..."

"For starters, let's talk about you _throwing _that fight with Slaughter..."

Jinx, felt her heart skip a beat when she heard BeachHead's accusation. Actually, the fact that Snake-Eyes threw the fight was not in dispute. During the fight, she could tell from his movements and the techniques used that Snake-Eyes was in full control the entire time - passing up obvious avenues of attack in favor of maintaining a stalemate. Rather, what surprised her was the fact that _BeachHead_ picked up on this as well – without the benefit of ninja training. She was impressed with his adeptness and now saw him in a new light.

"...Passing your hand-to-hand is not the point. The point is that you bring that same mentality of 'holding back' to the battlefield.

"..."

"Not wanting to kill in cold blood is one thing, but showing mercy to an enemy that will not stop until he kills you is just plain stupid."

"..."

"I realize that smart-ass! The difference with LifeLine is that he's at least honest about it; I know where I stand with him. You, on the other hand, need to either shit or get off the pot!"

"..."

"Well if you're on a solo mission, where it's only _your_ ass on the line, then feel free. But if you ever come under my command and I see that your antics put the team in danger, I will bench you."

BeachHead spun around and walked away, not waiting to read Snake-Eyes' response. BeachHead's break-off was so sudden that Jinx didn't have time to duck back around the corner before he saw her listening in.

"Jinx, don't you have something better to do?" he said, as he approached.

"Yes I do," she said, as she handed him his check.

"Housing Allowance," he said, reading the memo aloud. He took the clipboard and signed it, "Are you bean-counters pinching stamps now?"

"Yeah," Jinx said, rolling her eyes as she took the clipboard back. "Besides, if I had mailed it, I would've missed out on the opportunity to bask in your sunshine...sir."

BeachHead crossed his arms and started to say something. Instead, he brushed passed her, bumping her shoulder, "Carry on _corporal._"

Jinx smiled to herself in satisfaction when BeachHead left. She looked back in the direction of the locker room and saw that Snake-Eyes was still standing there. He looked at her for several seconds before he himself turned and walked away. Jinx hugged her clipboard tightly to her chest and left to continue her rounds.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

The last stop on Jinx's route was General Hawk's office. She saved it for last because she wasn't particularly looking forward to it. Ever since she was demoted, there has remained a degree of tension between her and Hawk. Normally, she would have put the paperwork into his inbox; however, Lt. Jenkins had been bugging her all week about it, so she wanted at least to be able to say that she handed them off personally the next time he asked her.

She walked in Hawk's office and stood at attention. She kept her head facing forward, but allowed her eyes to wander around the room. The last time she stood in his office was not a pleasant memory for her. She recalled standing next to Falcon as Hawk was giving them both a tongue-lashing. Needless to say, standing in the same spot a year later brought back the same feelings of anxiety.

Hawk had his head buried in paperwork from the moment she walked in. He was aware of her presence, but he did not acknowledge her. Jinx continued to stand at perfect attention: the only movement she allowed herself was the involuntary blinking of her eyelids and the subtle rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Fifteen minutes passed and he didn't so much as order her to stand 'at ease'. He was testing her. Satisfied with the exercise, he finally looked up at her from his desk.

"You have something for me, corporal?"

"Yes General," she remained still until Hawk motioned for her to hand him the reports.

Hawk took the reports and looked them over briefly. Then he got up from his desk and walked over to his file cabinet. He pulled out a single manila folder and walked back to Jinx.

"Please return this to Lt. Jenkins when you get back to Finance." He handed her the folder and sat back down at his desk, "...dismissed."

Jinx saluted, did an 'about-face' and left the office - all according to regulation. The etiquette that she was taught in the dojo since childhood served her well in the Army. She relaxed once she closed the door to his office. In the reception area, on her way out, she saw that Snake-Eyes was waiting to go in next. As they passed each other, Jinx could feel the aura of his _Qi_ as it collided with hers. She was compelled to stop as the energy inundated her being: it felt like her skin was on pins and needles. She knew he felt it too because he, likewise, paused in mid-stride when his energy pushed against hers. Her heart racing, she turned to face him. His Qi rivaled, if not surpassed, that of her mentor Blind Master, and it pounded her soul like waves crashing on a seashore. Snake-Eyes kept his back to her, but glanced at her briefly over his shoulder before continuing into Hawk's office.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Snake-Eyes entered Hawk's office and stood in front of his desk. Hawk was standing with his back to him as he stared out of his office window onto the grounds below. He had a single envelope gripped tightly in left hand. He drew the blinds, but continued to stare through them as if they were transparent.

"As I recall, I made a promise to you before bringing you into this unit. I stand with you today in this office to fulfill that promise."

He walked around the desk and handed Snake-Eyes the envelope he was holding.

"We've found him."

Snake-Eyes opened the envelope, inside was a satellite map and a picture of a man. Snake-Eyes' features were hidden behind his permanent mask, but the hiss he let out as he exhaled was telling of the expression he must have had upon seeing the photograph.

"When I asked you to join GI JOE, I knew you wouldn't refuse because deep down you feel just as responsible as I do about Cobra. However, I also hoped that bringing you back on a team – giving you a sense of purpose – would eventually fix whatever broke inside you back in 'Nam. If I knew back then that we would be having this conversation 10 years after the fact, I never would have lied to the Army to get you on the team."

Snake-Eyes, seemingly oblivious to Hawk, never once took his eyes off the picture. Hawk finally got his attention by gently placing his hand on his shoulder.

"For your sake, I beg you to stop chasing after ghosts."

Snake-Eyes looked at Hawk. His response was to crush the picture in his hand as he made a fist. He stormed out of the office. Hawk was left alone, shaking his head lamentingly.

End Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Chapter 2

Ben Hoa AFB, Vietnam – April 9, 1975

Sergeant First Class Conrad Hauser was awakened by a sudden jolt. He didn't mean to fall asleep, but the rhythmic meter of the rotor blades was unexpectedly soothing. He looked outside the window of the Huey and saw that they were flying relatively low; he could track the helicopter's shadow against a background of fast moving foliage.

"Sorry about the bump Boss. We're on final approach to _Ben Hoa_. We should be landing in 5," said the chopper pilot as he peeked around his seat from the cockpit.

It was the first time the Sergeant took notice of the pilot since he picked him up from the USS Kitty Hawk. He always wondered whether chopper pilots were made to be ostentatious, or if they were picked because they naturally stood out in a crowd. This one, in particular, spoke with a southern drawl sporting a bushy mustache and a cowboy hat.

"Mind if I smoke Tex?"

"No Boss."

"Stow that 'Boss' shit. Call me Duke."

"...Wild Bill," the pilot said, as he gave an informal salute.

Duke nodded back at him then pulled a stogie from his lapel pocket. He lit the cigar and inhaled that first smooth drag. He held it in until he felt the familiar dull sting of the smoke as it burned his lungs before exhaling. He promised himself that he would eventually quit smoking. As he got closer inland, however, he was reminded why he started in the first place: Vietnam always had a smell that he could never stand. It was a stench that defied description; he agonized to find an appropriate word to describe it. It wasn't until his last tour of duty ended, and with much introspection, that he was able to give it a name - despair. Only the sweet stink of tobacco numbed his senses sufficiently to mask it.

When the chopper landed, he grabbed his gear and disembarked. Once he was out from under the vortex of the rotors, he stood up straight and took another drag from his stogie. As he looked around, he noticed that there was a haze in the air. At first, he thought it was the smoke from his cigar irritating his eyes. But when he threw it on the ground and stamped it out, the haze was still present. His rational mind told him it was pollution from the vapors of the aircraft taking off and landing nearby. However, he couldn't help but feel that the stench of despair had now taken physical form and was now starting to congeal around him. He took in a breathe, then immediately spat on the ground – as if despair was something that could be ejected by a wad of spittle. He laughed inwardly at the thought that he could even attempt to stop the air of despair from entering his lungs, going into his bloodstream, and eventually becoming a part of him. He looked skyward and prayed as he breathed in deeply to embrace it. He was back – God Bless America.

"Sergeant Hauser?"

Duke's head snapped in the direction of the voice. A stern-looking soldier had just driven next to him in a jeep. The soldier parked and exited the vehicle to approach him. He had jet-black hair that was just starting to grey at the temples. When Duke saw the War Eagle on the soldier's collar, he immediately stood at attention and saluted. The soldier returned his salute, then ordered him at ease and took his papers.

"I'm Colonel Abernathy, welcome back to Vietnam soldier."

Duke packed his gear and the two entered the jeep to head for the command bunker.

"Colonel Abernathy--"

"Hawk."

"Colonel Hawk, have your men been briefed on my assignment?"

"Partially, we're going to the command bunker now. You're going to present." At this point Hawk eyed Duke suspiciously, "Have you been made aware of the sensitive nature of _K Company_?"

"Yes sir, I am aware that K Company is under a _Modified Table of Organization_. On paper, as far as the press is concerned, you're regular Army - non-combatants stationed here as advisors. Unofficially, you're Long Range Recon - suited for Snatch and Sniff operations--"

"Which is why, I imagine, the Defense Intelligence Agency requires our services?"

"I'm sorry your unit got dragged into this sir, especially since the war is all but over."

"Somebody has to do it. If not us, then some other poor grunts. Besides, you can't blame central command for not wanting to leave this to the Jarheads."

"Hooah," said Duke. He was relieved to see his new CO had a sense of humor.

They arrived at the command bunker. Hawk and Duke exited the vehicle and went in through the main entrance. On the way to Hawk's office, a tall imposing soldier met them. His countenance suggested that he was a seasoned veteran who had seen plenty of action.

"Snake-Eyes," Hawk called out to the soldier. He then presented Duke and introduced the two.

"The men are assembled and ready Colonel Hawk," said Snake-Eyes.

"Good, when you're done meet me in my office," said Hawk, before leaving the men to continue their way to the briefing room.

The two command Sergeants walked side-by-side in silence, Snake-Eyes happened to glance at the wings on Duke's collar.

"Airborne, I see. What're you doing _slumming_ down here?"

"I'm no _shake n' bake_ - I've chewed my fair share of dirt," Duke replied sharply. "Besides, I did a stint at Ft. Benning, so I know the drill."

"That don't make you no _Ranger,_ boy," Snake-Eyes said, while shooting him a disapproving glare. "I'm only asking because I've read about that stunt you pulled during Tet. I figured the Brass would've offered you a commission instead of shipping you back here."

"I turned it down," Duke said, keeping his eyes looking forward.

"Oh?" Snake-Eyes said, warily. He then took his eyes off Duke and proceeded to look forward as well, "Why did you do that?"

"For the same reason I entered as an enlisted: It is my understanding that an officer's job is to impel others to take the risks - so that the officer survives to take the blame in the event of total catastrophe. If that's true, then I don't want any part of it."

"Humph," Snake-Eyes snorted with approval. "Well, don't expect anybody here to drop their panties for you just yet. You've still got more dirt to chew on in order to prove yourself to this unit."

"Good thing I brought along my toothbrush."

They arrived at the briefing room. When they entered, the soldiers inside took notice and bolted to attention. Snake-Eyes ordered them all at ease. He went around the room and introduced everyone in K Company. Duke found out that it was customary for everyone in this outfit to go by nicknames. He made it a point to memorize the faces and names as they sounded off: Rock n' Roll was the team's machine gunner, ZAP handled demolitions, Stalker was the sniper, and Preacher was the linguist. Once introductions were made, Snake-Eyes began the briefing.

"Men, I have some good news, and I have some bad news," he bellowed. "The good news is, within the next few days the rest of the covert-ops units will start pulling out of Vietnam. That means for 99.9 percent of us, the war is over."

Upon hearing this, the soldiers cheered and started high-fiving each other. Snake-Eyes waited until they calmed down before continuing.

"The bad new is Rangers live on the margins. Therefore, you will _not_ be a part of that 99.9 percent. We are going back into _The Suck_ one more time."

The room was silent. When it was clear that Snake-Eyes was serious, the cheering was replaced by curses – in three different languages. Snake-Eyes let his men vent as he motioned for Duke to come over, as if to say, _they're all yours. _Duke took over Snake-Eyes' position in the front of the room as Snake-Eyes went around back to operate a projector. The room was quiet once again when the lights went down and the projector came on. An image of a man in a steel mask flashed on the screen as Duke started his presentation.

"This is Destro. He is _the_ premier underground weapons supplier on the planet. It is believed that he has worked as a go-between with the Russians and the Chinese, so chances are every bullet that the Doc has had to dig out your sorry asses was purchased either directly through, or on a deal brokered by his organization."

With a click of the projector, the next slide showed a topographical map of Saigon.

"As you know, in anticipation of Northern aggression, Pacific Command is going to step up the helicopter evacs. The Marines are going to cover the withdrawal; however, the DIA has learned that elite VC death squads are going to start inserting themselves into key areas and take out as many choppers as they can during take-off. It's their way of saying, 'don't let the doorknob hit you'. That, gentlemen, is unacceptable."

"So why not let the Jarheads deal with it?" said Rock n' Roll.

"The VC are going to be equipped with state-of-art long-range shoulder-mounted heat seekers supplied by Destro. Our ground forces won't be equipped to deal with that kind of mobility and firepower. That's where we come in."

The next slide showed a topographical map of an area northwest of Saigon.

"The DIA has been tracking Destro's movements for months. There appears to be a pattern and we think the arms are going to be shipped here," Duke said, as he pointed to an area on the map. "Unfortunately, with the advancement of the Vietcong, that puts this area well behind enemy lines. You guys are the only _Lurps_ that have logged any significant hours in this region. You should be familiar enough with the land to get in and out undetected."

"We're familiar with it all right," said ZAP. "It's a jungle-rot leech-infested cesspool."

"Yea," Stalker confirmed. "That reminds me ZAP, tell your mother she needs to stop calling me and move on."

The rest of the men burst into laughter. In response, ZAP wadded up a sheet of paper and threw it at Stalker, hitting him square on the forehead.

"Stow it ladies," Snake-Eyes barked, with a grin on his face.

"Our orders are simple," Duke continued, once they all settled down. "Stop the arms shipment from going down and, if possible, apprehend Destro."

"Gee Boss," Preacher said in disbelief. "Would you like a side of _fries_ with that?"

"I said _Stow it_ Preacher!"

"You guys specialize in POW extraction, this won't be any different," Duke replied. "We're set to leave before dawn; we're going in by _slick..._Are there any questions?"

Preacher raised his hand. Duke nodded at him.

"You keep saying 'we'. Are _you_ coming with us?"

"Yes," Duke answered. Before they could respond in protest, he added, "don't worry, I'm not here to step on anyone's toes. Snake-Eyes is in charge of getting us in and out. But I have the final decision regarding mission objectives."

"Well Boss," Preacher continued. "Seeing as how you're now part of the team, what's your handle?"

"You can call me Duke."

All the grunts looked at themselves with amused expressions. Finally, Preacher said, "Well in that case, 'Duke' it _is_ - pilgrim."

Once again, the room was filled with laughter. Apparently, Preacher's _John Wayne_ impression was spot-on. Duke looked around the room at his new team: from reading their service records, he never would have thought that this undisciplined lot was deserving of all the commendations they had earned as a group. They were brash, raw, and disrespectful to authority. He smiled inwardly - he couldn't have asked for a more perfect unit for this mission.

Saigon, Vietnam

Cholon district

After the meeting, the soldiers of K Company rode into town. They parked at the entrance of a crowded business district. There were so many people crowding the streets that it was faster to disembark their vehicle and negotiate the busy plaza on foot. Every sidewalk corner had a string of street merchants selling various wares. The majority of the buildings resembled pagodas, and most of the billboards and other advertisements were written in Chinese.

"This place looks more like Chinatown than Vietnam," said Duke, taking notice of the surrounding architecture of the bustling market place.

"That's because it _is_ Chinatown, Vietnam's version of it anyway," Stalker replied.

"Saigon has a significant Chinese population, most of them live here," Preacher added.

"I can't tell the difference myself," Rock n' Roll said under his breath.

"Amen to that, brother," Zap added.

Suddenly, a group of children, presumably orphans, asking for money, approached them. After giving them their spare change, they continued down the adjacent block.

"So tell me why you grunts are dragging me along on this field trip?" asked Duke, checking his pocket for his wallet.

"Tradition," Snake-Eyes answered. "Since K Company was put together, we haven't failed a mission or lost a soldier. Since this is our last assignment, were going to do this_ by the numbers_. Part of our pre-mission ritual is a last meal at the best Chinese bistro outside of China."

"I didn't figure you Lurps we're the superstitious type," Duke said, as he lit a fresh stogie.

"Its hard _not_ to be with the suckage we've seen," said Stalker.

"--And part of that ritual says that the new guy pays," Zap said, nudging Rock n' Roll in the ribs.

"Well, I wouldn't want to mess with tradition," Duke responded, as he exhaled smoke in Zap's face.

At that moment, Preacher suddenly broke away from the group. His attention was directed toward a sidewalk vendor selling flowers. The rest of the unit stopped and waited as he picked out a Lotus that stood out prominently from the other flowers on display. Duke took notice as Preacher conversed with the vendor in an odd language before he completed the transaction and rejoined the group.

"Oh Preacher, you shouldn't have," said ZAP, in a mockingly feminine voice, as he smelled the flower.

"It's not for you," Preacher said, pushing him away. "A man never knows when he'll be presented with an opportunity to _whoo_ a pretty girl with a flower."

All the guys responded with an irritated groan as they continued down the sidewalk. After they rounded the next corner, they eventually made it to the restaurant. When they entered, an attractive hostess wearing a pink and cerulean dress greeted them. She had long hair that was tied up into a style resembling a French braid. Preacher immediately pushed to the front of the group and started conversing with her casually.

Duke didn't understand what they were saying, but their manner of speech seemed to be informal – which would make sense if the soldiers frequented this bistro. As they took their seats, at their usual table, they were immediately served appetizers.

"Preacher, what language is that you've been speaking?" Duke asked, with curiosity.

Preacher eyed Duke from over the top of the menu, "Why?"

"I'm fluent in most Southeast Asian dialects - including Mandarin. But I've never heard that one."

"It's an obscure southern Chinese dialect," Preacher said, as he resumed going over the menu. "You've probably never heard of it."

At this point, a girl ran up to Preacher and sat in his lap. Her eyes lit up when she smiled; her front two teeth hadn't come in yet, so she spoke with a lisp as she talked to Preacher in that same odd dialect. Preacher reached into his bag and pulled out the Lotus he purchased earlier. The little girl giggled as he pinned the flower in her hair. From across the restaurant, an old man, who appeared to be the proprietor, yelled out to the little girl from the kitchen. When the girl did not respond, the hostess came by and took the little girl by the hand from the table. The girl waved goodbye to Preacher as she was led back to the old man. The old man picked up the little girl and returned to the kitchen, but not before glaring angrily over his shoulder at all the soldiers seated at the table.

End Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Chapter 3

GI JOE Headquarters – November 2, 1989

Jinx enjoyed her walk to work from the mess hall. RoadBlock outdid himself for breakfast and the meal put her in good spirits. She swiped her badge to enter the common area and made her way to the south corner elevator that would take her to the administrative wing. The elevator doors slowly opened; Jinx hesitated to enter when she noticed that Snake-Eyes was already in the car. She cautiously went inside and stood next to him as the doors came to a close.

They stood in silence as the elevator started with a jolt. This was the third time that Jinx ran into Snake-Eyes in as many days – she wondered if Karma was trying to tell her something. Since their last encounter, she employed meditative techniques to deaden certain areas of her brain that are receptive to Qi. She had always been Qi-sensitive, even by Ninjutsu standards, and was taught by her blind Ninja master on how to "tune-out" the natural life-energy emitted by those who are unusually adept (like background noise in a crowded room). Without doing so would have made training in the dojo back home with the other students untenable. She had gotten out of practice since joining the army because she didn't need it - not until yesterday when she walked past Snake-Eyes. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, without turning her head. He did not acknowledge her presence as he was reading a mission briefing report. She surmised that he was preparing for a solo-op.

"May I ask you something?"

Snake-Eyes nodded, closing his manila envelope.

"I saw your kumite session with Sgt. Slaughter yesterday. At the end, I noticed that you set into the _stalking-crane _stance, but you did not follow through with your technique. I was curious if you would show me what the implementation is?"

Snake-Eyes turned to face her. After looking her up-and-down briefly, he started to sign at her:

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Snake-Eyes stopped signing and let out a sigh of impatience. He took out a pen and a notepad that he kept in his back pocket. He wrote something on a sheet of paper and handed it to her as the elevator came to a stop. When the doors opened, he left her.

Jinx watched him walk away as the doors closed. When the car continued to the Finance department floor, she unfolded the paper. She was surprised to find that the writing was in Japanese. She took notice of the careful placement and penmanship of each Kanji on the page. Normally she would have been impressed – had she not had the presence of mind to translate the script:

YOU ARE NOT NINJA

In shock, she kept re-reading the line, just to make sure she did not misunderstand the context. Although it was written in _Keigo_ (honorific) form, the fact that it was conveyed in her native language made it personal. She didn't even take notice when the elevator stopped on her floor:

"Hi Jinx...are you getting off?"

Jinx looked up from the paper to see Amy waiting at the entrance. In a daze, she carefully folded the paper and put it in her pocket. She left the elevator, without acknowledging Amy, and continued to the finance office. When she got there, she swung the door open and went inside, grasping the doorknob behind her. She stopped short of slamming the door. Instead, she closed her eyes, took in a few deep breaths, and released the knob – allowing the airbrake to close the door quietly with a hiss.

"Akamatsu, in my office," Lt. Jenkins ordered.

_What is it now?_ The day, that had started out so well, was quickly starting to take a nosedive.

Jinx entered Jenkins' office and stood at attention. Jenkins ordered her at ease and told her to sit.

"I've been reviewing your service record," he said. "It's easy to see why you were selected for GI JOE. I notice that your specialty is counter-intelligence. So what are you doing here?"

"Because finance is my secondary, sir."

"Yes, I saw that in your file. It's an odd choice given your background."

"Frankly sir, I wanted an easy secondary to fall back on, and a friend suggested Finance."

"So I take it you don't find Finance challenging?"

"No." Given her mood, she realized too late that her response might have come across more brazen than she intended. Fortunately, it appeared that Jenkins appreciated her honesty.

"Hopefully, in time, you'll come to have a different outlook." He continued to read her file, "You graduated at the top of your class. Yet you've been shuffled between infantry and the motor pool before finally ending up down here. It looks to me like the General doesn't know how to manage his assets efficiently."

"I'm just paying my dues, sir."

"Nonsense. If there's one thing I hate is _waste_. It's past time you got your feet wet." He handed her a document.

She took the document from Jenkins. Her brow furrowed when she read it, "This is an audit. You're going to _audit_ General Hawk?"

"No," Jenkins responded, "_you're_ going to audit General Hawk."

Jinx looked up from the document in surprise, "with all due respect sir. Wouldn't that be a conflict of interest? I mean, General Hawk is my CO."

"So what?"

"I...don't feel comfortable investigating him."

"Such loyalty is commendable...by the way; this _is_ the same General Hawk that busted you down to _Corporal_, correct?" When he saw Jinx lower her eyes he continued, "Of course, if you don't think you're up to the task, I'll assign someone else. Although I can't say I won't be disappointed; I would've thought your first loyalty would've been to the United States Army."

After several seconds of quiet, Jinx responded, "If I may ask, what prompted this audit?"

"Last year, Hawk took in bids to build a Wellness and Morale center on-base. The winning bid was 10 million dollars, but the deal fell through. The books balanced, but I was never able to find a paper trail for the money put up for the bid. I was going to write the incident off, but in going over the books for this year's budget, a line item for the requisition of a new fleet of attack vehicles caught my attention. Do you care to guess how much the requisition is for?"

"Ten million dollars?"

"Right."

"So you think Hawk has been inflating the budget in order to _park_ 10 million dollars?"

"Right again."

"In that case sir, this is a job for the Auditor General."

"I don't want to go through normal channels as of yet. If the General is trying to hide funds from congress, then he's no doubt doctoring the books."

"Are you allowed to do this?"

"That's why it's called 'oversight' Corporal. Don't worry, I cleared it with legal."

"I don't think I'm the one you want for this assignment."

"Why is that?"

"Because I don't believe you."

He smiled before saying, "that's why you're perfect for it."

She read over the document again, "...I'll have to think about it."

"Don't take too long," he said, picking up a ringing phone and waving her out his office.

She got up to leave and opened the door. Keeping her back to him she said, "What's to stop me from telling Hawk?"

"Nothing."

Jinx closed the door behind her.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

_KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

Shana Hauser looked through the peephole when she heard the knock on her door. The bright light from the late afternoon sun shining through the eyepiece momentarily blinded her green eyes. When they came into focus, she immediately recognized the masked soldier who stood on her porch. With a smile on her lips, she opened the door and hugged her long-time friend.

"Snake-Eyes! When Alison told me you were coming, I didn't think it would be so fast," she released her embrace. "Is it that serious?"

Snake-Eyes nodded. Shana took him by the arm and led him inside to the main study.

"Connie, you have a visitor."

Duke sat in the middle of the study as he stared blankly out of the window. When he heard his wife call his name, he reached over and grabbed his cane. Using the cane, he pushed himself up from the seat and turned to face his guest. He looked much older that his years. Since he left GI JOE, he had lost a considerable amount of weight. The way he slumped over his cane belied his 6'2" frame. Wrinkles carved deep into his face and streaks of grey imbued his blond hair.

"Snakes, it's been a while," he said, as they shook hands. It was an awkward exchange, but genuine. "Let's go into the other room. It's not as cramped."

The three of them went to the den. Shana and Snake-Eyes sat on the couch while Duke went to the liquor cabinet. He offered a drink to Snake-Eyes before pouring himself a glass of J&B. He sat in a leather chair across from the couch and took a sip. Snake-Eyes placed a picture on the coffee table.

"Oh my God," Duke said upon seeing the picture. He placed his drink down on the table next to the photo before taking it in his hands. The picture appeared mangled, as if it were once crushed then straightened-out. "You're going after him?"

Snake-Eyes nodded.

"Where did Hawk get the intel on this?"

Snake-Eyes signed three distinct letters. Duke snorted in comprehension. He turned to Shana, "get me the box."

Shana left the room and momentarily came back with a portable firebox. When she set it on the coffee table, Duke entered the combination and opened it. He pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to Snake-Eyes.

"You were right to come to me first. I was ordered to burn this 15 years ago. Fortunately, I decided to hang on to it in case there was any blowback. You're going to need this in order to bribe the officials that are protecting him." He picked his drink back up, "you better go; you don't have much time. They're probably already after him."

Snake-Eyes nodded and got up, leaving Shana with a confused expression on her face.

"Wait a minute, can't you at least stay for dinner?" she said, as she got up to stop him.

Snake-Eyes shook his head as he took her hand and gently brushed her cheek with his fingers.

"Snakes," said Duke. "If it turns out that you can't bring him in, chop the Son of a Bitch's head off."

Snake-Eyes nodded before showing himself out. Shana sat back down on the couch, with her arms folded, and looked at her husband with concern. Duke didn't return her stare, but he knew what was on her mind.

"He'll be fine." He changed the subject, "...I heard Cobra has returned."

"Yea, me too," she said, looking away from him and down at her wedding ring.

"You should go back. They'll need you. You could be Scarlet again..."

"Let's _not_ have this argument again..." She took note as Duke grabbed some pills from his pocket and popped them in his mouth. She waited until he pressed the glass to his lips, "The doctor said not to take those with alcohol."

"Yea, I'll take that under advisement." He chased the pills with the J&B before retiring to his study, leaving Scarlet alone on the couch.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

With a yawn, CoverGirl fumbled through her keys. It was a clear night, so the full moon provided enough light for her to find the right key to unlock the service door going into building 6. She closed the door behind her and took out her flashlight. There was something different about the motor pool at night: without the sound of car engines and the smell of exhaust, it felt alien to her.

When she got to the main garage, she turned on the power. The electric hum of the lights flickering overhead broke the silence. When she walked inside, a warning alarm sounded from the motion detector. CoverGirl went over to the access panel and entered her code to shut it off. When she turned around, she was startled by a strange shadow in the rafters. She scanned the ceiling briefly but did not see anything. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and scoffed at herself for being so jumpy.

She went over the garage door when she heard the intercom buzz. She went over to the speaker and pushed the 'talk' button, "CrossCountry? Is that you?"

"Yeah."

"Hold on. I'll open the door."

The garage door creaked loudly. As soon as there was enough room, Cross-Country ducked under the opening and handed CoverGirl a clipboard.

"It took you guys long enough to get back."

"Hey, it's a long drive to Ft. Irwin. Do you have the 'de-milled' equipment ready?"

She looked at the manifest briefly before answering, "Yes." She put the clipboard on her worktable, "Lets get this equipment swapped out."

By now, the garage door was fully open. Two transport trucks and a squad of regular army grunts waited outside. When CrossCountry gave the order, they proceeded to unload the transports. They worked quickly in silence. In less than an hour, the exchange was made: two HAVOCs and four AWE-Strikers were offloaded and replaced with their de-milled versions. The grunts drove off with CrossCountry in the transports. After closing the main door, CoverGirl examined the new equipment briefly while making notes on her clipboard. When her work was done, she armed the security system and turned off the lights. She left the garage, carrying the manifest under her arm.

After a few minutes of stillness, a dark shadow descended from the rafters. A warning alarm sounded as the motion system detected an intruder. Like a blur, the figure moved swiftly to the control panel and entered a code to shut it off. The intruder, dressed in a black body suit, walked around and inspected the new equipment – taking notice of the serial numbers of each of the vehicles. It left the garage and moved in silence to CoverGirl's office. It picked the lock and went inside. It took the manifest off the desk and read the documents on the clipboard with care. Seemingly satisfied, the intruder picked up the phone on the desk and dialed:

"Jenkins here."

"It's Jinx."

"Akamatsu, do you have any idea what time it is? What do you want?"

"I'm in."

End Chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Chapter 4

Vietnam – April 10, 1975 

In the early morning hours, a Huey came up silently over the tree line of the black sky. The men of K Company rappelled off the chopper and immediately took cover in the tall grass. After the chopper flew off, the men fanned out, staying low to the ground, and penetrated the dense jungle. Once inside the safety of the trees, they advanced their position using a cross-cover formation.

Duke was impressed with the speed and efficiency with which the team moved. Rock n' Roll took point and Preacher brought up the rear to cover their tracks. No longer the brash grunts he met yesterday, they seemed to operate as one mind. Individual personalities where replaced by a group collective that communicated via hand-speak; not once did they break silence.

By sunrise, he reckoned they covered over six clicks. They settled in an open area of the forest littered with decaying logs. Beyond the edge of the tree line was a small ridge that was buffered by a marsh. He stayed hidden in the bush since the area had not yet been secured. The forest was deathly still – not even a breeze was available to sway the leaves.

The sweat dripping down his face was already starting to wash off his insect repellent. The quiet backdrop of the forest made the mosquitoes buzzing around his ear sound like 747's landing in his head. A bead of sweat dripped down from his forehead and landed in his eye – causing it to involuntarily snap shut from the sting. He wanted to move, but he resisted the temptation – detection could mean a death sentence out here. He scanned his surroundings with his remaining eye – moving the eyeball side-to-side rapidly in its socket to make up for his hampered field of vision.

After a few minutes, Snake-Eyes stepped out of the bush and gave the _all clear_ signal. The remaining soldiers stepped out after him. Duke took notice when Snake-Eyes signaled silently to Stalker, who then sprinted ahead out of sight. The rest of the unit sat down and took out their C-rations. Duke crouched next to Snake-Eyes and wiped his face before re-applying some insect repellent.

"What kind of hand-speak is that you guys are bandying about?" Duke whispered.

"Standard Army signals mixed with good old-fashioned American Sign Language," said Snake-Eyes. "We pride ourselves on silence. Its saved our bacon more times than I can count."

"That's unorthodoxed...And all of your men just happened to know it?"

"No." He then nodded in Preacher's direction.

"Ah, the linguist."

The rest of breakfast was passed in silence. By the time everyone was finished and packed, Stalker sprinted back into camp. He started to sign to Snake-Eyes, but the sergeant stopped him:

"Verbal reports for the benefit of our SFC," Snake-Eyes said.

"All's clear up ahead. But there's a village less that a click over the ridge," Stalker said.

"So what?" said Snake-Eyes.

"It's been razed."

"Why would Charlie waste a village?" said Zap.

"Sympathizers?" Rock n' Roll offered.

"That doesn't make any sense," Zap remarked. "We're under a cease-fire; they've won and we're pulling out."

"And yet here _we_ are behind enemy lines," said Preacher.

"This is different."

"Why?"

"We can debate politics later," Snake-Eyes said, interrupting. "We need to get moving--"

"Wait a minute," said Duke. "It might not be a coincidence that we have a razed village on the way to Destro's meet-n-greet. I recommend we at least check it out."

Snake-Eyes looked to Stalker for an assessment:

"No threat of detection: whoever did it is long gone," Stalker said. "I agree with Duke, the tracks lead in the same direction that we're heading in. Its worth a closer look – if anything for a tactical assessment."

Snake-Eyes shrugged his shoulders. "Alright. It's your dime Duke...Lets move out."

With Stalker now on point, the team made it to the village. They split up and inserted themselves at opposite ends to meet up in the middle of the square. Most of the huts were destroyed; amid the smoldering buildings lay the decaying bodies of the inhabitants. There was nothing left alive – not even the livestock.

Duke placed his boonie over his mouth and nose in order to filter the smell of burnt rotting _despair_. He tried in vain not to breathe as he swatted at the flies who buzzed around angrily - caught up in the frenzy of the pestilence. He struggled to keep his attention focused on the task at hand, but humanity makes some things impossible to ignore. Pasty red mud caked his boots as he walked by corpse after corpse. Shell casings littered the ground. Not even the children were given quarter. His heart sank at the sight of the rigored appendage of an infant as it stuck out from behind its mother, who tried in vain to shield it with her body.

"This was an execution," said Rock n' Roll, as he gripped his M60 tighter.

"No," Stalker said. He took off his boonie and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Sanitization."

"No matter how many times you see it, you never get used to the children," said Preacher.

"This ain't right amigos," said Zap, as he kissed the crucifix tied around his neck. "I got a bad feeling about this one--"

"Let's keep it together men," said Snake-Eyes. "I want 2 three-man teams; standard _search and clear_. Keep your ears on."

The team split up and searched the rest of the village. Duke teamed up with Preacher and Snake-Eyes. As they made their way to the edge of the village, Duke noticed that the ground was no longer red and mushy, although there were still bodies scattered around. There was a scavenger hovering over a dead girl; it attempted to gnaw off a foot that defiantly held on by a thin string of sinew. Duke snarled as he kicked it; the animal whimpered as it trotted off to a safe distance.

Preacher separated from the group in order to sweep a clutch of empty huts. Duke and Snake-Eyes continued to investigate along the main path.

"AK-47," Snake-Eyes said, as he held up a shell casing he found on the ground. "Consistent with Vietcong ordnance."

Duke noticed as Snakes-Eyes walked by several dead bodies and kneeled down to inspect each one.

"What is it?" Duke asked.

"Something's not right here. I've seen enough dead bodies to know that blood don't pool _upward_."

"You're talking about _post-mortem lividity_."

"Whoa, we got an Einstein here."

Duke curled his lip at the comment, but shrugged it off, "now that you mention it, the ground isn't right either."

"Come again?"

"In the middle of town, the ground is saturated with blood; turning it into red clay. There's also an over-abundance of shell casings. There should be more bodies over there to justify that amount of saturation and gunfire. Over here the ground is dry, even though the distribution of bodies around the entire village looks random."

"So you're trying to say the bodies were killed in a central location, and then moved...This whole area has been staged."

"Inviting the question: for whose benefit?"

"The more I think about this mission, the more I realize that it stinks--"

"--CHARLIE!"

Duke and Snake-Eye's attention snapped in the direction of Preacher's voice. They ran around a hut to see five men attacking Preacher with machetes. Preacher held his ground and gave Snake-Eyes the signal to stay back. Snake-Eyes obeyed and lowered his weapon.

"What are you doing?" said Duke, aiming his weapon.

"No, let him handle it," Snake-Eyes said, as he motioned for Duke to stay back.

"But its one against five – with machetes!"

"Yep," Snake-Eyes responded calmly, "he'll let us know if he needs help."

Preacher fought, unarmed, against the assailants - discarding his gear so as not to be weighed down as he danced around. He was constantly moving – never allowing himself to become surrounded. When two of his attackers rushed him, he sidestepped then ducked certain death. He rolled past the next two attackers and engaged the last – who he perceived to be the youngest and least experienced.

Grabbing the youth's sword-arm, he twisted behind him and used him as a shield against the other four. All the while, he talked to them in a calm tone. After a tense exchange in Vietnamese, he released the boy. The attackers lowered their weapons as the rest of the team came on the scene. After a relatively calm discussion, Preacher rejoined the others.

"What was that all about?" said Snake-Eyes.

"Apparently, this isn't the only village that's been attacked," Preacher replied. "According to our welcoming party, everyone in the outlying hamlet is living in terror. These guys are part of an informal militia from a neighboring village that came to bury the dead."

"What can they tell us about the attackers," said Snake-Eyes. He motioned for Stalker to bring the map.

"By all accounts," Preacher continued, "it sounds like they were armed with Kalashnikovs and wore _Black Pajamas._"

"...VC guerrillas," Snake-Eyes said, as he stroked his chin.

"Can they give us the locations of all the villages hit?" said Stalker, as he held the map up.

Preacher called for one of the militiamen to come over. After relaying the request, he pointed out several areas on the map that Stalker in turn plotted with a marker. When he finished, everyone stood around the map to get a look.

"Look at this," Stalker said, as he traced an outline on the map with his finger. "These attacks follow a path that lies directly along where the weapons drop is going to take place. We're going to have to abort."

"Why is that?" said Duke.

"We'll never be able to make it in time for the exchange: not with the guerrillas out there to slow us down."

"What if we cut through this area here," said Duke, pointing to a bare area on the map.

"No, that's no good," said Snake-Eyes. "There's a reason why the paths steer clear of this area: it's called The Badlands."

"Yea, quicksand and crocs," Stalker said. "Not to mention it's a death-sentence if you get caught in a firefight: it's littered with natural methane emissions."

Duke grimaced momentarily in silence. He then started talking to the militiaman in Vietnamese.

In comprehension, Preacher interrupted, "Are you insane?"

"What is it?" Snake-Eyes grunted.

"He said he can guide us through The Badlands," Duke replied.

"That's not what he said!" Preacher interjected.

"Look we don't have a choice!" Duke shot back. "The clock is ticking; if we drop the ball, central command doesn't get another chance. Those guys grew up here; they can get us through. No one will expect a contingent coming out of the Badlands – we'll have the advantage."

Snake-Eyes gave a moment's pause before answering, "He's right. Pack it up, we're hitting the Badlands."

K Company was underway in less than 3 minutes. The mood of the team had understandably changed since the grizzly village encounter. Having led many missions himself, Duke understood the importance that morale played in keeping the integrity of the unit. Although K Company was well trained, even the most battle-hardened soldiers could crack when confronted with such atrocities - coupled with the impending feeling of doom that even _he_ was not immune to. He knew that, as a leader, Snake-Eyes must be aware of this also, even if he didn't outwardly show his concern. Any good leader knows not only how to maintain discipline, but also how to foster morale:

"Preacher...give us some religion," said Snake-Eyes.

Confused by the request, Duke glanced over at Preacher – who continued to walk in silence as if he had not heard the order. There was a Katydid crawling on Preacher's arm; he was content to allow it to crawl up to his shoulder, where it jumped off on its own accord. Duke continued to watch as Preacher eventually removed a reed, that he was nervously chewing on, and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. He was in awe as the words that Preacher spoke next were said with an authority and precision that was worthy of his _nom de guerre_:

_...for we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God_ (1).

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

By dusk, the team had made it to within a click to the edge of the Badlands with little incident. With the end in sight, the militiamen leading them went their separate ways, with the team's gratitude. Stalker scouted ahead as the team broke out their C-rations for an evening repast.

As Duke sat down for the first time in hours, he noticed how tired he was. He was by no means out of shape; however, it had been a while since he put his body through such exertion. He closed his eyes briefly and let himself drift...

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

Duke was shocked back to reality as Zap screamed for everyone to take cover. Someone had thrown a grenade in the middle of camp. Zap dove for the unexploded grenade and threw it out of range seconds before it exploded a safe distance away.

Everyone's ears were ringing from the explosion. They ducked behind cover as the grounds around them became drenched with metal rain. Rock n' Roll popped off his safety and took aim. Without batting an eye, he answered the assault with a hundred rounds from his M-60.

Snake-Eyes, cognizant that they were still in the badlands, knew that a protracted firefight in this marsh was like playing _Russian Roulette_. "CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Then, as quickly as it began, the shooting stopped. Attracted by the gunfire, Stalker had since rejoined the team and took cover behind Snake-Eyes. Snake-Eyes started signing to him when they heard a voice from the enemy position:

"SOUND OFF!"

Snake-Eyes, surprised to hear English, responded, "K Company, LRRP--"

"KILO?"

"Affirmative."

"Special Forces 3rd Battalion. We're coming out."

Snake-Eyes signed something to Stalker. Stalker nodded, grabbed his gear, and disappeared out of sight. Both units came out from cover and cautiously squared off. Snake-Eyes and Duke met the 3rd Battalion leader – who introduced himself as FireFly.

Snake-Eyes sneered, saying, "Well don't you all look _pretty_ in your Green Berets."

"Didn't anyone tell you Lurps that the Rangers pulled out 2 years ago," FireFly said, matching Snake-Eye's sarcasm. "When we saw those _slopes_ leave your camp, we assumed that you were Charlie."

"I've heard of these guys," said Duke, "_Panther Force_ – stationed out of Ft. Bragg. They're _supposed_ to be the best."

"Hooah!" FireFly responded. He then introduced the rest of his men: Mendez, Stokes, and Beretta.

Snake-Eyes, likewise, introduced the men of K Company (with the exclusion of Stalker).

"Isn't it about time you boys told us why you're so far from home?" Snake-Eyes said.

FireFly hesitated in answering.

"We don't have time for a pissing contest soldier," Duke interjected. "We're obviously heading to the same location. We were sent by DIA, and no one told us _you_ were going to be here."

"I guess some REMF back home screwed up," said FireFly.

"Apparently," said Duke, crossing his arms.

"We're here to take out Tho," said Firefly. He slung his rifle over his shoulder; when he did so, everyone else relaxed.

"_The Tiger_ is here?" Duke said, with apprehension.

"What in the hell is a 'tho'?" Snake-Eyes asked.

"General _Tiger_ Tho," Duke replied, "He trained as a Kamikaze pilot during World War II. He defected to China when Hirohito surrendered back in '45. He saw the surrender as weakness on the part of the emperor and became disenchanted with his homeland. He's been a major force behind-the-scenes in Asian politics for the last twenty-five years."

Firefly exhaled loudly. "May I now ask what you grunts are doing here?"

"We're here for Destro," said Duke.

"The Tiger is meeting with Destro?" the apprehension in FireFly's voice now matched Duke's.

"Looks like it."

"I think we need to compare notes."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

As the sun sank lower into the sky, Panther Force and K Company made plans to assault General Tho's encampment. Using Panther Force reconnaissance, they were able to put together a makeshift scale model of the compound.

"Tho is holed up here in this abandoned POW camp protected by 30 NVA troops," FireFly said, as he started pointing out areas on the model. "They have guards posted at these 3 locations. Lucky for us it was designed to look out for people trying to break _out_; not for people trying to breaking _in_. As soon as Destro arrives, we have to take these guards out first before we make a run at the command bunker."

"What about these barracks?" said Snake-Eyes. "Most of his troops will be in there."

"There's a corridor between the helipad and the bunker that is relatively unprotected. If we punch straight through, the barracks will be a turkey shoot."

"No, that's too easy," Zap interjected. "This lane is probably lined with claymores. As soon as you set foot in this zone, they set them off, and you're FUBAR'd. It's the old _bait-and-switch._"

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what _I_ would do."

"So how do we get in?"

"You've got the right idea; it just needs some tweaking...As long as you grunts have the _stones_ for it."

"We have," said Snake-Eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Just after sunset, K Company and Panther Force were poised to attack the compound.

"This is team Alpha: Snake-Eyes, Preacher, and FireFly. All units radio check."

"Team Bravo: Duke and Mendez standing by behind guard tower 1."

"Team Charlie: Zap and Stokes standing by behind guard tower 2."

"Team Delta: Rock n' Roll and Beretta standing by behind guard tower 3."

No sooner had the teams set in position when a transport gunship came up silently over the tree line. A small jet-powered vehicle escorted the helicopter.

"What in the hell is that?" said Rock n' Roll over the comm. "It looks like a lazy-boy with a rocket strapped to the back--"

"Cut the chatter Delta," Snake-Eyes said. He cut the mike and looked toward FireFly, "Have you ever seen anything like that before?"

"No. It looks like some kind of _flight pod_."

When the chopper landed, Snake-Eyes gave the order to begin, "...all teams go. Terminate with extreme prejudice."

Snake-Eyes waited patiently over the squelch of the radio. What could be measured in minutes seemed like hours before he heard a response:

"Team Bravo: guard tower 1 is clear."

"Team Charlie: guard tower 2 is clear."

"Team Delta: guard tower 3 is clear."

Snake-Eyes gave a sigh of relief then responded, "...copy that. Alpha team is going in."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Once the gunship touched down on the helipad, a team of mercenaries disembarked and secured the area. As the rotors slowed down, the mercenary leader stepped out of the co-pilot seat and walked to the main cabin to escort his VIP out of the chopper.

The VIP stepped out slowly. He was a tall thin man dressed in a burgundy suit. He wore a shiny steel mask and carried a cane – although it did not appear he needed it to walk.

"Major Bludd, I would like you to accompany me to bunker," said the man in the steel mask.

"As you wish Lord Destro," Bludd said, bowing in acknowledgement.

As Destro and Bludd left the helipad, the pilot of the flight pod met them.

"How did the prototype handle, my son?" said Destro.

"Better. There's still too much yaw, but I think a second engine will give it the stability we need. I also recommend adding a plexi-glass _bubble_ around the seat to protect the pilot."

"I'm glad to see how adept you've become in research and development. Come with me to the bunker, it's about time _you_ participated in this aspect of the family business."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"Alright Zap, this is your ball game now, where are those claymores?" Snake-Eyes said over the comm-link.

"I'm spotting them now from my perch...Just as I figured: 12 mines along the path between the helipad and the command bunker. Claymores have a directed blast radius of 60 degrees; all you gotta do is place the front toward the enemy...Watch it FireFly, there's one right next to you."

"Roger that, I see it. I think we got it from here. All teams commence radio silence."

Zap turned off his mike and continued to watch Team Alpha work on the mines from his post in tower 2. Suddenly, he heard a 'click', and then a 'splat' sound before feeling wetness on the back if his neck. He looked up from his binoculars to see Stokes slump to the ground – the hole in his head spewed brain tissue. He felt the back of his neck and brought his hand back around to see it covered with blood – it wasn't his. He had his weapon at the ready when he saw Stalker running up to the guard post.

"Did you do that?" Zap whispered.

"Yea," Stalker replied.

"Why?"

"It's usually customary to say _thank-you_ when a buddy stops someone from putting a bullet in your head."

"I thought Snakes ordered you to shadow us--"

"Just a sec..."

Stalker shouldered his rifle – aiming his scope at tower 1:

_PAMF!_

Mendez's head burst, just before he was about to plunge his knife into Duke's back. Stalker swung his scope toward the last guard tower and squeezed the trigger:

_PAMF!_

A geyser of blood erupted from Beretta's temple as he was choking Rock n' Roll with a wire.

Stalker continued, "...he said to make sure Panther Force never _saw_ me. He didn't trust them. After you guys left camp, I went through their gear. Wanna guess what I found?"

"Comic books and bubble gum?"

"That, _and _Kalashnikovs with Black Pajamas."

"Dios mio," said Zap, kissing his crucifix. "Panther Force has been raiding villages disguised as Charlie?"

"Yea, I figure they were on a _Zippo mission – _no witnesses. I had to wait until they made a move on you before I could be sure."

"Snakes and Preacher are still down there with FireFly. He's gonna _smoke_ them if we don't go down there now!"

"I agree. But Firefly has ears, so we can't risk warning them over the radio. I'll fill Duke in; you take care of Rock n' Roll."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"I hope you're not wasting my time Tho," said Destro, as he walked in the command bunker with his son and Major Bludd.

"Is that any way to talk to your most loyal customer," said Tho, as he shook Destro's hand.

"Business is business; this little _conflict_ is winding down. I'm forced to explore other prospects."

"Then, by all means, let's talk business," he led them to a table in the center of the room. "Is that vehicle I saw the prototype that you promised me?"

"Yes, the TB-1 _Flight Pod_: what she lacks in firepower, she more than makes up for in speed and maneuverability. It's more than a match for any modern battle chopper--"

"Most impressive, Lord Destro," said a masked figure standing in the back of the room.

"And who might you be?" Destro replied.

"An _associate_ of General Tho's, and a long time admirer of your work," said the stranger. "You worship chaos; I too am a follower of its destructive beauty."

"Is that so?"

"_Yessss_."

"My associate here has generously agreed to supply the funding for this meeting," said Tho. He handed Destro a sheet of paper, "I would like to place an order for some of your experimental technologies."

Destro took the order form and started reading it aloud, "...100 _Hi_gh _S_peed _S_entry Tanks, 50 _F_ully _A_rmed _N_egator _G_yrocopters, 200 _A_ssault _S_ystem_ P_ods...Are you planning on taking over a country Tho?"

"Of sorts. The Americans grow weary of war, once they pull out, a private militia under my command will topple the provisional government and I will install a puppet regime loyal to China. "

"That's quite a gamble. Are you sure NATO will let that stand?"

"Quite. If I succeed, Chairman Mao will welcome this regime with open arms. Our show of strength will cement our alliance with Warsaw. Without American involvement, NATO wouldn't dare interfere. And Vietnam is only the beginning, with these new weapons, and Warsaw's tacit approval, we will march throughout all of Indochina; Asia will once again be of one heart and one mind."

"With _you_ as one of its viceroys?"

"For starters," Tho said with a grin.

"Normally, an order of this size would take several months – if not a few years. Some of these items are still on the drawing board - I'll need to upgrade my production facilities, hire new contractors..."

"I am prepared to cover all of your _expensesss_ as a down payment," said the stranger, as he presented Destro with a briefcase. He opened it to reveal it was full of diamonds and other precious gems.

"These are flawless," Destro said, as he examined one of the stones. "...What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. _Ssso_ do we have a deal?"

"Yes."

"_Excccccellent,_" the stranger said, with an excited hiss. He then noticed that this behavior garnered strange looks from the others in the room, "...Forgive my accent. It is an inflection normal to my native tongue. I have not quite _massstered_ your language yet."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Team Alpha had since reset all the explosives and moved them to locations that would maximize enemy casualties. They worked their way unseen to the command bunker. There were two guards standing outside. From the shadows, Snake-Eyes came behind one – hitting him in the back of the head with his rifle. Before the other guard could react, Firefly ambushed him – slitting his throat and stabbing his chest. They stood guard while Preacher went inside.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"Dude, why are you using _all_ of our C-4?" Rock n' Roll asked.

"Hey this is our last mission," Zap replied, "who knows when I'll get the chance to blow stuff up like this again. Besides, don't you want to go out with a bang?"

"Well this is the armory, so I guess, at least, it makes tactical sense."

Zap put the bricks in place and set the timer.

"Is that going to be enough time?"

"Yea more than enough," Zap said, as he took out his radio. "Duke, the explosives are in place."

"Good. Get back here on the double. Once this goes off, we'll draw their fire. That should give Stalker enough time to flank them and take out Firefly."

"Roger...Is the guard still standing outside?"

"Yea, don't worry; as long as you go out the back, he shouldn't see you."

Rock n' Roll explored the other side of the armory, scanning the shelves with his flashlight. He saw a box of grenades and decided to load up – you can never have too much ordnance. When he bent over, he bumped into a large object covered by a tarp. He removed the tarp and gasped: bricks of C-4 lined the entire wall all the way to the ceiling - at least 4 bricks deep.

"Uhmm...Zap?"

"I'm busy."

"...but, dude."

"Not now Rock, I have to concentrate. Once I set this, there's no going back." He flipped the switch and the timer started to count down.

"...DUDE!"

"Dammit Rock, What is it!"

"Did you know that all this stuff was here?"

Zap turned to see Rock n' Roll's flashlight illuminate the wall of C-4, "...no Rock, I did not," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Isn't this gonna make the explosion _mucho_ bigger."

"Considerably 'mucho'."

"Well, did you set the timer for long enough?"

"...No Rock, I did not."

Zap and Rock n' Roll burst through the main door of the armory building. They inadvertently knocked over the lone guard and ran as fast as they could to the ditch where Duke and Stalker waited.

The guard rolled to his feet and screamed at them in Vietnamese as he raised his rifle.

_PAMF!_

The guard's head jerked back as he collapsed to the ground.

"What the hell are you two thinking?" Duke said, as Rock n' Roll jumped into the ditch next to him.

Zap followed closely behind Rock n' Roll. He leapt over the ditch and kept running:

"No, too close! Keep going!" He said, as he sped off.

Rock n' Roll obeyed and followed him. Stalker, without asking questions, slung his rifle over his shoulder and ran off. Duke scrambled to get his gear together:

"Aww, shit!"

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

There was a knock on the door of the command bunker. A guard opened the door and was greeted with a kick to the face that sent him flying across the room. Preacher stormed the room with his rifle raised.

"Put your hands in the air. US Army...you're all under arrest--"

Tho's bodyguard went for his gun. Preacher shot him in the forehead before his hand reached the holster.

Preacher continued, "One at a time, I want you to throw all of your guns out of the window."

Everyone in the room obeyed and one-by-one threw their guns out.

Preacher aimed his gun at Major Bludd," ...I said _all_ of them."

With a grimace, Major Bludd took out his backup pistols and threw them out of the window as well.

"You will pay for this transgression, boy – in blood," said Tho, clenching his fists at his sides.

"Yeah, take a number and get in line."

"Do you have any idea who I am," said Destro, pointing his cane at Preacher.

"I didn't figure you were the tooth fairy," he said. He walked over to the window and whistled outside.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

When Snake-Eyes heard Preacher whistle, he whistled back in acknowledgement.

"The bunker is secured," Snake-Eyes said, as he took out his radio. "I'll call in the rest of the team--"

_CLICK!_

Snake-Eyes dropped his radio and put his hands up as he turned around slowly. Firefly had a pistol aimed point-blank at his head.

"So now you show your true colors," Snake-Eyes said, calmly. "Special Forces _my ass_, who do you really work for?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Firefly replied. "But, like the rest of your unit, you'll be too busy being _dead_ to care!"

Just then, the armory exploded. The earth shook. Munitions shot into the sky, like a roman candle, and colored the night in red and orange.

Firefly instinctively jerked his head in the direction of the explosion; Snake-Eyes used the distraction to rush him and make a grab for the gun.

A wave of NVA troops ran out of the barracks to investigate. When they saw American soldiers on the grounds, an alarm rang on the complex. When they approached, claymores cut them down.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Preacher was also momentarily distracted by the fireworks outside. However, a _moment_ was all Tho needed: he pulled out a short-sword from under his jacket and sprinted toward preacher. Preacher was surprised, as Tho moved considerably faster than his bodyguard. He raised his M-16 just in time to block the blade aimed for his neck.

The sword cut deep into the rifle shaft, causing the bayonet to pop off, where it fell to stab the floor. From the force of the strike, Preacher knew that the shaft had been bent, thus rendering the firearm ineffective. He parried the sword with his rifle and rolled to the side – picking up his bayonet on the way. As he vaulted to his feet, he pulled out his bowie knife with his free hand, just in time to block a skull-splitter from above.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

In the ensuing explosion, Snake-Eyes managed to retain his hold Firefly's gun-arm. Both men struggled for control of the weapon. An NVA trooper rushed their position. Both men instinctively worked together to fire the pistol: Snake-Eyes aimed while Firefly pulled the trigger.

Once the trooper was dispatched, Snake-Eyes flipped Firefly over his shoulder – causing him to drop his weapon. Firefly did not resist, rather he rolled with the flip, landed on his back, and kicked Snake-Eyes in the face. Snake-Eyes stumbled backwards as Firefly scrambled to his feet.

Both soldiers shouldered their rifle, but they noticed that more NVA troops were coming. They stood back to back: Firefly covered their forward position while Snake-Eyes shot down a small team that managed to flank them.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Bludd dove at Preacher from behind. Preacher was able to side step him by rolling on top of the table. As he rolled over the tabletop, Tho stabbed at him – missing him by inches and causing his sword to get stuck between the planks of wood. Preacher somersaulted under the table and kicked it off its legs.

Tho lost his balance and stumbled backwards as Bludd charged with his knife. Preacher twisted out of the way, although the knife managed to cut a gash down the side of his uniform. He reversed his grip on his bayonet and plunged it into Bludd's hand. Bludd screamed when Preacher pulled the bayonet out and proceeded to 'walk' his bayonet and knife hand-over-hand up Bludd's extended arm; ending with his knife in Bludd's eye.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Their tacit truce over, Firefly flipped his rifle over his shoulder to attempted a no-look shot behind his back. The shot missed, as Snake-Eyes had already turned to tackle him low at the waist. Firefly twisted with the charge, causing Snake-Eyes to whip around him.

As Firefly flipped his rifle forward to reacquire his target, Snake-Eyes grabbed the barrel and used his momentum to jerk Firefly off-balance. As Firefly stumbled forward, Snake-Eyes dropkicked him, causing his head to whiplash as he fell backwards.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Against Destro's protests, his son picked up a pipe and charged Preacher. Destro pulled out a hidden dirk in his cane and joined the fray, just as Tho pried his sword out of the table.

Preacher blocked the pipe then ducked Tho's kick just as Destro lunged with his dirk. Tho's foot sunk into Destro's abdomen, causing him to double-over. Preacher rolled over Destro's back to evade another swing of the pipe. From behind, he pushed Destro into his son, causing them to both fall to the ground.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Snake-Eyes trained his rifle on Firefly when he noticed that another wave of NVA troops, that had survived the initial blast, were about to overrun them. Snake-Eyes hit the dirt and rolled as he shot into the enemy. He cursed when he ran out of ammo and ducked behind cover. He prayed as he searched his pockets – all he needed was one more clip. His prayers were not answered with bullets, but rather when K Company charged the enemy's flank, clipping them in a crossfire.

Ducking low to stay out of the line of fire, Snake-Eyes went back to Firefly. He drew his knife as Firefly regained consciousness and staggered to his feet.

"Looks like you were wrong about my men," Snake-Eyes said, "I guess you didn't read the chapter in the Black Ops manual that says, _always keep an ace up your sleeve_."

Firefly took out a remote detonator hidden in his pocket, "the manual also says, _you don't need an ace if you stack the deck!_" He glanced at the command bunker as he flipped the switch.

Snake-Eyes' eyes widened, "PREACHER! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

The masked stranger watched the battle from the safety of the shadows behind a communications cabinet. It was three against one, but _who_ would eventually triumph remained unclear. The calculated frenzy continued as Preacher kept his enemies off balance and in each other's way. The fight seemed like it would continue indefinitely, when suddenly he heard someone yell, _fire in the hole._ An explosion rocked the entire bunker – then there was darkness.

When the stranger came to, he noticed that half the roof had caved in. Smoke filled the room and the sound of gunfire could be heard outside.

"Bloody Hell!"

He crawled over to the voice to find Major Bludd: his left eye was bleeding heavily; his right arm hung lifelessly at his side. With is good arm, he tried to drag Destro's unconscious son out of the bunker - with little luck.

"If I carry him, will you take me with you?" said the stranger.

"Agreed."

"Lead the way; I'll follow as _sssoon_ as I can."

Bludd staggered out of the bunker; adjusting a tourniquet he had tied around his dead arm to stop the bleeding. The stranger hoisted the unconscious body over his shoulders. Once he was steady, he noticed someone had grabbed his ankle. He looked down to see it was Destro.

"Wait," he said, weakly, "I still live."

"Wanna bet," the stranger responded, as he toppled the communications cabinet on top of the prostrate Destro. He laughed maniacally as he watched Destro's twitching arm jut out from under the cabinet. A pool of blood seeped out from under the heavy equipment as the hand went limp.

Once outside, he caught up with Major Bludd. They used the smoke from the smoldering ruins of the barracks to conceal their escape to the gunship. Bludd's mercenaries were well trained. Rather than join the firefight with the NVA, they knew it was their priority to keep the helicopter secured as a means of escape. Once their leader was in sight, they immediately formed ranks to aid his escape. A browning M-2 blanketed the area around them, allowing them to walk right past K Company.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"We gotta stop that chopper from taking off!" said Duke.

"Not with that 50-cal pinning us down!" said Rock n' Roll.

"Stalker, have you got a shot?"

"Negative, zero visibility."

They watched in vain as the gunship took off under a blanket of suppression fire.

"That bird has got us out-gunned, why are they pulling back?" said Rock n' Roll.

"From what I can tell, they've got wounded," Stalker replied.

K Company broke off and found Snake-Eyes standing outside of the remains of the command bunker.

"I guess you found out about Firefly," Duke said.

"Yea," Snake-Eyes replied, "but the bastard got away. Let's stay sharp, the area is not secure, and we have a man down in the command bunker--"

"K COMPANY! SOUND OFF!" said a familiar voice in the distance.

"Preacher, is that you!" Snake-Eyes replied to the darkness.

"Affirmative."

Preacher stepped out of the smoke. He was carrying Destro's lifeless form over his shoulder. He was covered in grime, and smoke stained his uniform. He coughed heavily as his lungs tried to expel the soot he had inhaled. Relieved to see their teammate alive, the team greeted him with an energetic, _hooah!_

"Anyone left alive in there," Snake-Eyes asked.

"No," Preacher replied.

"What about Tho?"

"He's not in there," he said, as he dropped the corpse and sat down

"Can you walk?"

"I'll do _back flips_ to get out this hellhole."

"I think we've attracted enough attention to ourselves for one night," Stalker added. "Those explosions were, no doubt, seen for miles."

"Let's bag the body," said Snake-Eyes, as he helped Preacher to his feet. "We'll rest in the Badlands before heading for the LZ."

Stalker took point, leading the way back into the jungle, followed by Snake-Eyes and Preacher. Rock n' Roll and Zap carried Destro, while Duke brought up the rear. He scanned the area to make sure they weren't being followed before disappearing into the bush.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"I'm so _sssorry_ for your loss. You're father was a great man; a true visionary."

"Yes he was," said the son, as he looked out of the hatch to the jungle below. "And I will have my vengeance."

"_Sssuch_ anger. Take care not to lash out blindly lest you destroy yourself."

"Are you trying to tell me to exercise restraint?"

"On the contrary: I'm telling you to _dessstroy_, maim, and project your pain on the world."

"I will make the world burn."

"Tell me, do you share in your father's philosophy on _chaosss_?"

"It is our family creed: _chaos_ is the only true motivator for political change."

"Then fulfill your father's pledge, but make your machines of war for _me_. Follow me, and together we will rain _chaosss_ on the tribes of man such that the gods in heaven will tremble."

"I don't care who I make the weapons for, as long as I receive payment," he said, as he slapped the back of his neck. "Damned mosquitoes!"

"...And you Major Bludd, will you _raissse_ me a mighty army?"

"I'm not an _idealissst_ like you," Bludd said, mocking the stranger's accent. "I have enough to retire on and I'm getting out before I lose any more body parts."

"You _disssappoint_ me noble Bludd."

"Raising a mercenary army is gonna take years. This little piece of dirt isn't worth the trouble."

"I agree, Tho has the right idea, but I see now that he sets his goals too low. Indochina is much too small a theatre for men of our _talentsss_."

"What are you proposing?"

"Follow me, Bludd, and you will walk on _carpetsss_ of diamond and dine on plates of gold."

"I'll say this for you: you drive a hard bargain," said Bludd, as he rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand.

End Chapter 4

* * *

(1) Ephesians 6:12 


	5. Chapter 5

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Chapter 5

GI Joe Headquarters – November 3, 1989

Lt. Jenkins slowly stirred the sugar into his morning coffee. "Akamatsu, what was so important that you had to call me in the middle of the night?"

"I was being proactive," Jinx said. "I got a hunch yesterday when CoverGirl told me, in passing, that they were shipping de-milled equipment to Sierra Army Depot--"

"Yea, I already know about that. The equipment is to be stripped and resold through the DoD. It's to offset some of the cost for the new fleet of ground vehicles."

"Well, last night I paid a visit to the Motor Pool and sat in on a shipment--"

His eyes narrowed, "What do you mean you, _sat in_?"

She gently bit her bottom lip in hesitation, "I...still have _access_ to building 6."

His interest now piqued, he put down his coffee and clasped is hands together, atop his desk, as he listened intently, "Continue."

"The convoy didn't come from Sierra. They were shipping to-and-from Ft. Irwin."

"Is it possible that you misunderstood?"

"No. The plates from the transports were from Ft. Irwin, but the manifest indicated delivery from Sierra. I believe that the manifest is a deliberate forgery."

"That _is_ suspicious. But I can think of a number of reasons how that could happen."

"So could I. That's why I inspected the equipment after the swap; they're not assembly-line new. In fact, I believe it's our same equipment – it's just been recycled."

"And you're sure about this?"

"Absolutely, one of the supposed 'new' vehicles was a HAVOC I used to work on. They put on a fresh coat of paint, and a new set of serial numbers, but it's the same piece of junk."

"In order for that to happen, key personnel would have to be acting in collusion," he mused.

"Multiply last night's shipment with the rest of our ground fleet, and I think we've found the 10 million dollars."

Jenkins continued to appear detached as he brought his hands up to his face, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers, "So, Hawk ships off his own equipment to keep up appearances – a few items at a time to escape notice. He then _buys_ the equipment back, writes up an invoice, and pockets the cash...it fits."

"You do realize that we're no longer talking about _parked funds_. This is a mock-purchase designed to hide what the money is being used for. What if this is something Black Budget?"

"The oversight committee is here by authority of executive order. I was assured that we're to have unfettered access to _all_ financials. I'm afraid that what we have here is a man on a power trip. I've seen it happen before."

"If so, it involves at least General Hawk, the Motor Pool, and the A/R managers at two other Army bases."

He eyed her warily, "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"No. But at some point we have to report it."

Jenkins shook his head, "I want you to continue to follow the paper trail. We don't have enough to go to my superiors: Hawk is a decorated two-star general, so we need more than theories."

"But how can I do that if I can't trust the paperwork?"

"You just might get lucky. Besides, the problem with reporting it now is that any evidence might _conveniently_ disappear. I'll re-check the books, while you go through his service record. Look for any discrepancies that involve anything Black-Budget. Make sure you go _all _the way back!"

"If Hawk is good at anything, it's paperwork. You said yourself that everything reconciles."

"Yes, but if we can establish a pattern, it doesn't matter. It'll be enough to request an informal inquiry. This is why we have audits." Before she could say anything else, he dismissed her and continued to drink his coffee.

She stood up, but hesitated to leave, "...sir, I--"

Sensing the trepidation in her voice, he cut her off, "I know what you're thinking, but I need you to stay focused. Just do your job – it's not personal." He watched her turn around to leave. Before she reached the door he said, "You did good Corporal."

She paused as she grabbed the knob. Without further acknowledgment, she opened the door and left.

_tick...tick...tick...tick..._

Time is the ultimate sadist: unsatisfyingly fleeting during periods of bliss, and excruciatingly slow during periods of angst. Human beings are naturally curious. When presented with a mystery, it is human nature to try to solve it. Searching for, and uncovering, clues can be edifying - thus its appeal. Jinx was no exception to this. She allowed herself to get caught up in the romantic notion of uncovering some grand conspiracy. After the meeting with Jenkins, however, the allure quickly faded when she started to ponder the consequences. General Hawk was a person she had come to admire. She couldn't help but wonder, _Is this a mystery that I want to solve?_

_tick...tick...tick...tick..._

She glanced at the wall clock: it was time for lunch. On her way to the mess, her sensibilities began shift. If their positions were reversed, would General Hawk press the issue? Of course, she already knew the answer to that.

Now, more than ever, she felt like an outsider. She circled around the dining area – looking for a table where she could dine alone. After her third circuit, she noticed Alpine and Footloose getting up to leave. When they left, she immediately took the table. Once she was settled, she looked around to make sure she wasn't being watched. Although she was hungry, she was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she couldn't bring herself to eat. With her fork, she made tracks in her mashed potatoes.

"Mind if I join you?"

She sat up straight, with a start, when she heard the voice. She looked up to see Stalker standing over her with his lunch tray. Without waiting for her to answer, he took the seat across from her. He started to eat in silence as Jinx looked at him out of the corner of her eye - wondering why, out of all the other tables in the mess, he decided to sit here.

He reached for his tea and took a sip. When he put the glass back down, he noticed that she was looking at him. He smiled at her and made an off-hand comment about the weather. Blushing, she returned his smile and looked down at her tray – trying to appear fascinated by the way the peas where arranged on her plate.

"Pass the salt please," he said.

She looked at the saltshaker next to her tray; it was then that she noticed she had been tightly gripping the sides of her chair all this time. She released her hold and handed him the saltshaker.

"...Better not let RoadBlock see you use that," she said.

"I'll take my chances," he replied, as he sprinkled the salt over his plate. He looked at her as she continued to make tracks in her potatoes, "Aren't you eating?"

She looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone, but in order to keep up appearances, she speared a stalk of broccoli with her fork, put it in her mouth, and chewed slowly.

He tasted his food, then added more salt before saying, "I got an interesting e-mail from the data desk: you've been granted _secret_ access to our central archives."

"Why would they bother _you_ about that? The files are kept at the Pentagon."

Stalker shook his head. "Before you joined up, Cobra breached the Pentagon Firewalls. They were able to retrieve personal information on some of the teammates and used it to kidnap their family members. Since then, Hawk has had all information from the Pentagon concerning GI JOE transferred here. We get a flag anytime someone requests information."

"I see. But is it so odd that Finance would need access to the archives?"

"No. What's _odd_ is how quickly this was pushed through. Is there a problem that we should be aware of?"

She shrugged. "None, sir."

He leaned in closer and spoke softly, "Are you sure? Maybe it's something that we can help you with. Is there something _specific_ you're looking for?"

Her eyes narrowed as she replied, "I'd rather not say sir...unless, of course, this is a direct order - in which case I would want it in writing."

"Relax Corporal," he said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. "Just be careful about what you choose to stir up while you're poking around in there."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

After lunch, Jinx headed for _Archive Central_ – a secured repository housing data on all of GI JOE's operations. The fact that the archives were _on-site_ meant saving her a plane trip to Virginia. Unfortunately, it also served to add to her suspicions of Hawk's intentions. She found it disturbingly convenient that he would keep them so close – under his direct control – regardless of whether he was justified in doing so or not. She signed in at the data desk and went to the computer lab. She logged into the_ patriot shell_, impatiently clicking over the pop-ups warning her that she was cleared for _secret_ access only.

She had a daunting task ahead of her: GI JOE was very prolific when it came to counter-terrorist activities. She limited her queries to operations directly involving _General_ Hawk. She was in awe as she read his service record: with all the accomplishments and the commendations, he appeared to be someone above reproach. Suddenly, she was less sure of her position. Going after an officer of Hawk's repute was dangerous. If she was wrong, the consequences could mean more than a demotion..._Demotion_: the word gave her an idea. She changed her query string to: _Colonel_ Hawk.

The result-set came back with less _whitewashed_ information. It was an older part of the database, so information was sparse: all of the indexes referred her to a cryptic archive code. She printed out the page for future reference and continued her queries. However, every index of interest returned that same mysterious code. Frustrated, she hit the power button on her computer, as opposed to logging out properly, and stormed out of the room.

She went back to the data desk where MainFrame was manning the terminals. She stood over him, pacing back and forth, until he acknowledged her.

"What can I do for you, Jinx?"

"I need help with this archive code," she said, as she handed him a printout. "I want to know what it means."

MainFrame glanced at the paper and handed it back to her. "It means that the data in question hasn't been transferred to digital media yet. It's still on paper hardcopy. "

"Okay, so how do I get access to the hardcopies?"

"You can't, you just have to wait until they've been indexed into the database."

"When is that going to be?"

"Why don't you ask your CO Jenkins? His budget cuts have taken away all the Green Shirts; I don't have enough people to do mundane tasks like _data entry_."

"So you're telling me that I can't view these files, even though I have the appropriate clearance for it?"

"The files are kept in storage room F1. Physical entry into that room requires _top-secret_ level access. Unfortunately, you only have _secret_ clearance."

"Aw c'mon MainFrame, you're splitting hairs. All you gotta do is buzz me in – it's not a big deal."

"I'd like to help you out Jinx, but Lt. Jenkins' pet project isn't really high on my list of priorities. Besides, the last time I buzzed in a chick above her security clearance, she tried to blow me up."

Jinx rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine why _any_ woman would try to do that to _you_, sir."

He watched her as she walked away. When she exited via the elevator down the hall, MainFrame picked up the phone and dialed:

"Hey Stalker, it's MainFrame. She just left...Yea, I eavesdropped into her session when she logged on; she didn't find anything."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"Jinx?"

Jinx barely acknowledged Amy as she continued to stare blankly at her computer screen. "Hi Amy."

"I got those financials you requested." Amy pushed a two-tiered cart, which held boxes of papers, next to the desk.

"Thanks," Jinx replied, absent-mindedly.

She looked at her with concern on her face, "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Hmm?"

"I've noticed that you've been distracted lately."

Jinx finally looked up from her monitor, "Sorry, I don't mean to be."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"No, this is something I have to work through alone." She took the papers off of Amy's cart and placed them on her desk. "You know, I blew through all my Finance courses in college; I didn't give them a second thought. I figured when I joined the Army, that I would never have to use any that stuff."

"I know what you mean, I took dramatics in college with the intent of going to Hollywood and becoming a _star_," she said, striking a playful pose. "Ten years, and countless auditions later, here I am: a lowly contractor. And to top it all off, given my background, it's been hard to be taken seriously – there's a _bias_ against an actress having a brain."

Jinx, amused by her theatrics, replied, "It's funny that you should talk about _bias_, because it's been weighing heavily on my mind lately. In accounting, you're taught to be _unbiased_. In theory it makes sense, but in real life it's not that simple."

"I know what you mean. I imagine it's worse for you since you're stationed here."

Jinx nodded in agreement. "The Lieutenant certainly doesn't help matters either."

"I know he's abrasive, but he gets the job done. For instance, at my last assignment, we worked at a DIA branch office, I was ordered to reconcile a large number of unused plane tickets."

"Yes, undercover operatives often purchase multiple plane tickets in order to hide their movements."

"Right, that's how it was explained to me too. Anyway, after I reconciled the balance sheet, I decided to seek refunds from the airlines for the unused fares. I was trying to save the taxpayers some money."

"Sounds reasonable. So what happened?"

"I got a call from the CO, ordering me to stop wasting time on such _nonsense_."

"Odd that the CO would even care about something like that."

"I felt the same way, so I took my concerns to Lt. Jenkins. After some digging, he found out that the General was using the unused miles to ferry his _mistress_ back-and-forth from Seattle. Needless to say, it turned into a very public mess."

"I think I remember seeing that in the news...So Jenkins has gone after Generals before?"

"Men in positions of power are like children: they can't keep their hands out of the cookie jar."

"Does Jenkins always get his man?"

Amy nodded before saying, "The man is driven; once he smells blood, he's relentless."

"He sounds like someone with an _agenda_."

"Girl, this job has taught me that _everyone_ has an agenda."

"Then who do you know to trust?"

She shrugged. "Find someone whose agenda doesn't conflict with yours."

Her eyes widened, "...Amy, you're a genius – and I'm not just saying that because I'm _biased_..." She bolted from her desk and logged out of her computer.

"Where are you going?"

She smirked as she put on her jacket and said, "To see a man with an agenda."

"Well, when you're finished, put the files back on the cart. I'll drop it off at the end my shift this evening."

Jinx waved at her in acknowledgment before leaving the office.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

"I need to talk to you...alone."

Mercer looked up at Jinx. He was outwardly annoyed; after all, his time in the gym was the closest thing he had to a break during the day. However, he also had to admit that he was intrigued by the urgency of the tone in her request. After putting the barbell back on the rack, he led her out of the weight-room and into the hallway. Jinx followed him through an exit that connected to a staircase leading to the floor above. There was no air-conditioning in the staircase, so she removed her jacket due to the heat. They went halfway up, to a horizontal pivot-point, where he sat on a rail and took a cigarette out of his pocket. She politely declined when he offered her a smoke. From the number of butts that littered floor, she surmised that he must spend a considerable amount of time here.

He lit the cigarette and took a drag, "Normally, I would say it's social suicide for a young lady, such as yourself, to be seen associating with the likes of me. However, the word on the street is you're a bit of an outcast yourself these days--"

"I need dirt on MainFrame."

"Straight to the point – I like that. But I must ask _why_?"

"I think he's stonewalling me."

"He's a boy scout, what do you hope to bribe him with?"

"At the betting pool, I noticed that someone spliced into the security cam feed. I figured MainFrame had to be behind that."

"So why come to me?"

"You're an opportunist; you make it your business to be _in the know_ on stuff like that...No offense."

"None taken...Assuming I do _know_ something, why should I tell _you_ anything?"

She looked sheepishly to the ground, kicking an old cigarette butt over the side of the railing, "I was hoping you would do it as a personal favor...for Falcon."

"Let's get one thing straight: just because Falcon was in my unit doesn't mean we were friends. Don't expect any favors just because you two used to suck-face."

She sighed in frustration. "Fine, then we'll talk business: I'll give you something you want in exchange." She noticed that Mercer began eyeing her up-and-down, paying particular attention to her thin form-fitting undershirt. She covered herself up by replacing her jacket – afraid to ask what he wanted in trade.

He sneered. "Don't flatter yourself; you're not my type... Although I wouldn't kick you out of _my_ bed the way Falcon did."

"Do we have a deal or not?" She put her hands on her hips as she glared at him impatiently.

He folded his arms and regarded her briefly before answering, "Deal. You first."

"Snake-Eyes threw the fight with Slaughter."

His eyes narrowed, "How did you know I bet on Snake-Eyes?"

"It was a hunch. You weren't in line when Ace was handing out the winnings. Also, you didn't join in with RedDog and Taurus when they started _goofing_ on ShipWreck."

He smiled as he stroked his chin, "I _knew_ something wasn't right about that fight!"

"Ok _viper-boy_, tit for tat."

He nodded in agreement, "You're right. MainFrame spliced into the feed. But there's nothing to get him on because he was doing maintenance on the system anyway."

"Dammit."

"Don't lose heart; I heard that he's in the middle of changing the surveillance algorithm for all the security cameras on base. Camera performance will be spotty for the better part of the evening until the new programming takes effect. Security is still tight...but it should be easy enough for a _ninja_ to get around undetected."

She smiled in comprehension before saying, "Assuming said _ninja_ would ever resort to anything like that."

"Of course."

"Er...can I ask you something else?"

"You can _ask_ me anything. I don't guarantee you'll get an answer."

"Why did _you_, of all people, bet on Snake-Eyes?"

He took another drag from his cigarette before answering, "I like you Jinx, so you can consider this a freebie. When you're on the bottom of the food chain at Cobra, your superiors tend to treat you as if you're invisible. As a result, Cobra Commander often let certain information slip when I was on guard duty. Apparently, Snake-Eyes did a lot of GI Joe's dirty work behind the scenes. Ergo, he was considered an Alpha-level threat."

"What do you mean by _Alpha_?"

"Let me put it to you this way. One day, when I was on post, I decided to _browse_ through some of Cobra's intel documents kept below the commander's throne room. The files they had on all the JOEs were kept there as well. The data gathered on each JOE - even data on Hawk – is only about 50 pages worth, on average. However, an entire cabinet, longer than my arm, is devoted only to data on Snake-Eyes. The commander feared him in particular – I suspect that's why he hired the ninja, StormShadow, as his personal bodyguard."

Gambling that Mercer would indulge her further, she continued to press him, "What...did the files say?" She tried to come off as being only _passively_ interested, however she saw that Mercer wasn't buying it.

"You really fancy him don't you – I'll have to remember that. Unfortunately, you'll have to find anything concrete about him on your own: most of the intel that Cobra had on him was hearsay. For example, one report claimed that his face was disfigured in a helicopter accident during a rescue mission. Another report even claims that he and StormShadow belonged to the same ninja clan."

"Interesting, I've heard, from the guys in the Motor Pool, that he and Scarlett used to be an item."

"It's all rubbish of course, most of that stuff reads like it came straight out of a comic-book."

She paced around, giving this new information time to sink in as Mercer finished off his cigarette. "I would say, '_thank-you Merce_r', but I get the impression that _you're_ the one who got the better end of this deal. I take it that you're going to get your winnings back?"

"Are you crazy, that information is worth more than my meager winnings. I'm going file it somewhere – in the back of my brain – until a more _lucrative_ opportunity presents itself."

She rolled her eyes as she turned to leave him. She couldn't help but to feel that she had just made a deal with the devil.

As he watched her walk away he said, "You've taken a big risk trusting me with your intentions."

She stopped and turned back to face him. "I may not know _who_ to trust anymore, but I do know that nobody trusts _you_. I figure an ex-snake wouldn't owe anyone any allegiance...no offense."

"None taken," he said, grinning afterwards. He dropped the smoldering cigarette on the floor and stamped it out with his foot.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

The elevator door opened. Amy stepped off, pushing a service cart, on the way to Archive Central. She approached the data desk and signed in. Stalker took a logbook from her and started to check in the items on the cart.

"I want to thank you guys again for putting those financials together for us so fast," she said. "It's just been crazy lately."

"Not a problem. I know you guys in Finance have had a rough time fitting in around here. It's hard to do an unpopular job – especially when there's a perception from people that you're out to get them," he said, winking at her.

"Thank-you sir," she said, as she started to blush.

"You're a civilian, you can call me Lonzo," Stalker said, smiling at her. He walked around the cart, checking off the items on the list. He came across a small metal container on the bottom shelf. He knelt down next to it as he searched for it on the log-sheet. "What's this? It's not on the list."

"Oh that? Jinx left me a note saying that she found some old tax forms in the basement. Apparently, they were numbered incorrectly. She figured it would be okay to leave it temporarily with the rest of the financials until it was fixed."

"I see. That shouldn't be a problem. I'll buzz you in." Stalker swiped his key card in the terminal. He paused before entering his password, "You know what. On second thought, leave it in the computer lab instead. I'll take it up with Lt. Jenkins' personally in the morning."

When Stalker buzzed her in, Amy left the service cart in the middle of the lab, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. The room was dark and quiet. The small canister on the cart twitched, and then toppled over. The lid popped off and an object slid out and slumped onto the floor. The tightly wound object uncurled itself from the shape of its prison and expanded. Arms and legs slowly unwound from the center - transforming itself into the shape of a person: it was alive.

Eyelids fluttered as the entity fought for consciousness. Breathing, that was once shallow to conserve oxygen, became full and regular. The extra air jump-started the heart. Blood began to pump; bringing life to what was previously near-death. When the body was ready, the mind of Jinx awoke from its trance.

She laid there for several minutes. The sinews slowly stretched back into a normal position. The vertebrae in her spine collapsed back to their familiar curvature. She slowly stood up and finished massaging her muscles. By now, her eyes had become adjusted to the darkness: she knew she was not at her intended destination. Fortunately, behind the concrete security wall, most of the rooms were connected by a common ventilation system. She crawled into a nearby grate and climbed up into the ceiling.

She explored the network of conduits and came to a light shining through a meshed grate. When she peeked through the mesh, she could see that she was looking down upon the data desk. Stalker was seated at a terminal that rotated between displays of various security cameras. He appeared to be talking to someone. She couldn't see who it was from her vantage point, but, from the sounds of things, he was enjoying the company. After studying the security readout for a few minutes, she continued to her destination: storage room F1.

Using the data desk as a point of reference, she calculated that her destination was 100 feet west of her position. She crawled through the conduit in silence – careful to distribute her weight evenly along her knees and elbows so as not to cause noise from the warping of the metal of the surrounding duct. A rush of cool air greeted her when she turned a corner; it felt good against her skin. When she came completely about, her thigh brushed against a small object. She took out her flash light and illuminated the area. Her heart raced when she realized it was a security camera - the lens staring her in the face. Luckily, the camera was not active. She sighed in relief and silently gave thanks that Mercer's intel about MainFrame's diagnostics was correct. However, that was no reason for being sloppy. She decided to exit from the duct at the next available grate and go the rest of the way on foot; it was too hard to see in those narrow crawlspaces, and there could be other security measures present that she didn't account for.

She opened the grate and peeked into the hallway below. When it was clear, she dropped down – landing silently into a three-point stance. She was wearing her black ACU so as to blend-in with the support staff. From her pocket, she took out a blonde wig and put it on; that way, if she was spotted, she would not be recognized right away.

She came upon an adjoining corridor and stopped. By her estimate, storage room F1 was one block over just south of her position. She took out a small mirror from her pocket and peeked around the edge of the wall using the reflection. Sure enough, there was an active security camera sweeping the hallway. She waited until the camera panned away before turning the corner. She hugged the wall – staying out of the camera's field of vision – until she made it to the block containing storage room F1.

She came to the door marked "F1". Before going inside, she put her ear to the door and listened. Her eyes widened and her heart raced when she heard movement inside. She looked for a placed to hide in the barren hallway. She pressed her hands and feet against the walls on either side of her – using her body to span the length of the narrow hallway. Using opposing pressure, she scaled the walls all the way up to the ceiling.

No sooner did she reach the top when the door swung open. BeachHead stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He looked around - as if something had caught his attention. He took out his walkie-talkie and pushed a button:

"Hey Stalker," has anything unusual happened your way?

"Negative, Beach. All's clear. What's wrong?"

"Nothin' I just got a feelin'."

"You always have a _feelin'_..."

_Why are you just standing there? _Jinx thought to herself. From her position, she could see the top of his head as he scanned the hallway. _Don't look up... Don't look up..._ She started to feel the strain from supporting herself in such a precarious position. She was so close to him that she didn't dare breathe – even though her muscles would soon start to cry for oxygen. As her arms and legs began to shake, she closed her eyes and found her _center_. There was no body to strain: she was insubstantial, she was as _the air_, she was invisible.

She opened her eyes when she perceived that BeachHead had left. She dropped down and entered the storage room: It was like stepping into a time capsule. Old boxes full of papers and microfiche were stacked to the ceiling. She took out her list of reference numbers and began looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack of paperwork.

She found herself fascinated with the history documented in this room – most of it, sadly, would never see the light of day in a history text. Given the opportunity, she would love to explore and study that history. However, time was never her friend. She had already been there for an hour and had made no progress; it didn't help that she had to search in the darkness with only her flashlight to read by. She checked her watch: if she didn't find what she was looking for soon, she would have to abort.

At the end of hope, she came across a file cabinet hidden in the back of the room. She compared the reference numbers on the files to her list – jackpot! She laid the files out and began to sort through them. One folder caught her attention. It was simply labeled: "K Company". It stood out because the designation did not specify a battalion or brigade division, as with standard Army nomenclature.

As she read through the classified documents, she realized that the events chronicled pre-dated GI JOE. She recognized some of the names in the various mission reports: notably Hawk, Stalker, and Snake-Eyes. She gave pause, however, when she got to the end of the file. Many of the reports that outlined the events following the final mission were censored heavily. Some pages were completely blackened – only allowing the reference number to be visible. Furthermore, the censoring of the documents appeared to have happened recently; the pages were still warping from the moisture of being heavily markered. _Is this what BeachHead was doing in here? _She cursed inwardly, afraid that she was too late to find anything meaningful. She glanced at her watch and cursed again. The maintenance window for the security upgrade was almost over.

Determined to glean what information she could, she continued to examine each page with care – ignoring that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that time was running out. Her persistence paid off when she held one of the documents up to the light. She noticed that due to the indentation of the typeset, that the ink from the marker had not completely bled through the page in certain areas. If she looked for the indentations, she could still read a decent portion of the text. She worked quickly – using her spy camera to photograph what she could and taking notes longhand for the rest. She had just finished going over the minutes taken from a formal inquiry investigating Colonel Clayton Abernathy (Hawk). She arched an eyebrow when she got to the last page: there was a death certificate appended. Breaking the silence, she gasped as she read on:

"Oh my God."

End Chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter is rated T for war violence and one particularly disturbing death scene. Thanks to **trecebo** for the beta.

* * *

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Chapter 6

Vietnam – April 12, 1975

"That could've gone better," Duke said, after closing the door to Hawk's office.

"That's as good as you can expect with Hawk," replied Snake-Eyes, who waited for him in the hallway. "At least we got Destro."

"Yea, but DIA wanted him alive. My boss is gonna tear me a new one." He and Snake-Eyes started to walk out of the command bunker and across the quad. The sun shone brightly overhead, spurring him to put on his sunglasses. "I also get the feeling that we're going to take the heat for Panther Force – those bastards made My Lai look like a picnic. There'll no doubt be a full inquiry."

"Don't bet on it; somebody high up sent them there illegally. Both sides are going to want this swept under the rug. "

"I suppose you're right."

"It looks like you guys did alright against them."

Duke snorted quietly, surprised that Snake-Eyes actually gave him a compliment (or his version of one), "Stalker told me that it was your idea to shadow them...How did you know that they were lying about being in Special Forces?"

"It was their green berets."

"Pardon?"

"_Green Berets_ don't wear their green berets in the field. They tried too hard to push their cover story. If you ask me, they fought like spooks."

"I agree. We got our initial intel on Destro from _The Agency_. It looks like they were holding out on us. And that jerk Firefly certainly played his part to the hilt!"

"Personally, I'm making Firefly my new hobby. I have friends in Black Ops. If he ever shows his ugly mug anywhere, I'll be there to _chop_ that Son of a Bitch's head off."

"You're not the only one with a score to settle."

"I have to admit that when we first ran into them, I thought _you_ had been holding out on us too."

"Nope, I was just as surprised as you were."

"Believe me, if I thought for a second that you kicked us into that shit-grinder on purpose, I would've dropped your corpse into the deepest bog of the Badlands."

"So what did I do to gain your trust?"

"The men vouched for you; that was good enough for me."

Duke smirked, two back-to-back compliments from Snake-Eyes had to set some kind of record as far as he's concerned. "Gee, when you say stuff like that, Snake-Eyes, it gives me a warm fuzzy right here," he said, patting his chest.

Snake-Eyes scowled at Duke's levity, "Just don't take it to mean that we'll be sharing pillow-talk till the _wee small hours of the morning_."

They arrived at the barracks and entered the lounge. Inside, they found Stalker, Rock n' Roll, and Zap eating in silence. Duke and Snake-Eyes each took a soda out of the cooler and joined them.

"Why the long faces ladies?" said Snake-Eyes as he opened the bottle cap. "I thought you girls would be happy."

"Its hard to believe that after all this time, we're going home - _just like that_," Zap remarked.

Snake-Eyes took a seat at a table away from the others. Reclining back in the chair, he rested his feet on the tabletop as he took a pair of dice out of his pocket and began to rattle them in his hand. "The Southern Army 18th is making a stand at Xuan Loc. From the level of resistance, we know that they're not going to be able to hold off the NVA."

"Xuan Loc? That's less than 40 miles from Saigon."

"Yea, so central command is getting antsy. They want us _out_ now. The chopper is already on its way from the Kitty Hawk."

"So why isn't Preacher here?" asked Duke.

Snake-Eyes threw the dice on the table. He scooped them up and rattled them in his hand again, "He was given a special _furlough_ back in town. He'll catch a ride back with Colonel Hawk tonight."

Zap noticed Duke's quizzical expression at Snake-Eyes' cryptic answer. He changed the subject before Duke decided to press the issue, "Stalker was just about to tell us his plans when he get back home."

Stalker shrugged his shoulders before saying, "I thought I'd try my hand at Special Forces."

"You're not fooling anyone," Zap replied. "You just want an excuse to wear those cute beanies."

"What can I say? Chicks dig the beret – just ask your mother."

"I, for one, can't wait to hit the beach and pick up where I left off: pumping some iron and working on my tan," said Rock n' Roll

"Well, I'm going to try the private sector: anything that involves blowing something up," said Zap.

"You guys don't want to stick with it like Stalker?" asked Duke.

"And do what? Zap and me are _specialists_, not _Rangers_ like the others," Rock n' Roll answered.

"It's the wave of the future. With the way things are going now, there's going to be a demand for small specialized support groups. I even hear that SOCOM is trying to put together an all-purpose interservice unit."

"Swabbies and Jarheads working _with_ the Army?" Zap said, shaking his head. "That'll be the day."

"If this mission has proved anything, it's that the face of warfare is changing," said Duke.

"Humph...Nothing ever changes," Snake-Eyes said. Warfare will always be about someone giving orders and someone taking a bullet."

"That's a jaded view coming from someone in your line of work," Duke said.

"My _line of work_ will always be to minimize the number of grunts that have to take that bullet."

"Thankfully, that's no longer an issue given that we're _between_ wars now. What are your plans for the future?"

"Plan? I _plan_ on living forever." Snake-Eyes threw the dice on the table again. A smirk came across his face as two single pips stared back at him.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the building. The lights flickered and then dimmed before the backup generators kicked in.

Snake-Eyes bolted from his seat and put his dice back in his pocket, "What was that you were saying about being _between wars_?"

After retrieving their weapons from the armory, K Company headed for the command bunker to meet up with Hawk. It was chaotic outside. Southern Army soldiers scrambled to get to their battle stations. More explosions set off around the base as the unit traversed the buildings while staying in cover formation. They arrived at Hawk's office; he was being briefed by a liaison officer.

"Where do you want us Hawk?" asked Snake-Eyes.

"Right here. Remember, we are official non-combatants. Reports are sketchy so far, but this appears to be just panic fire – no clear indication of a specific target."

"It's doubtful that a large NVA contingent made it this far south, it's probably a couple of guys lurking on the outer perimeter."

The phone on Hawk's desk rang. He picked it up and spoke briefly to the person on the other side.

"That was security on the phone, four intruders penetrated medical."

"They must be after Destro," Duke said. "That's where we have his body packed on ice."

"So the panic fire was a diversion," Snake-Eyes mused. "Is it VC or NVA?"

"Neither. They wore masks and were dressed in _blue_ battle fatigues."

"Destro routinely employs mercenaries: ex-Foreign Legion commandos," said Duke. "They're no doubt on his payroll."

"There's no way a four-man team can carry a body _and_ cover their escape. They must have an exit strategy," said Snake-Eyes.

"It's gotta be an air extraction!" Rock n' Roll exclaimed.

"No way," Stalker replied. "They would need some serious firepower for that."

"Have you already forgotten about their gunship that had us pinned down outside of the Badlands?" said Rock n' Roll.

"What gunship?" Hawk asked.

"It looked like a Choctaw--"

"He means a Sikorsky H-34," Stalker said, interrupting. "They're ancient."

"Maybe so, but the Bitch had teeth with twin 50 cals, and a _Mighty Mouse,_" said Rock n' Roll.

Hawk reached into his desk and pulled out his M1911 pistol, "We can't take any chances. We've risked too much to just let them waltz in here and take the body."

Rock n' Roll took point as K Company traversed the base to the medical compound. On the way, they where met by a security team. As they approached, they could see signs of a firefight. When they got to the building, they had to wait until the area was secured before they were allowed inside. Snake-Eyes, Duke and Hawk entered first followed by Zap, Stalker and Rock n' Roll. The dead bodies of the medical staff were still seated at their desks – as if they were shot before they had time to react.

They arrived at the morgue. The body of Destro had been taken out and laid on the main examination table. The head had been removed. There was a message written in a foreign language on the adjacent wall. It was written using copious amounts of blood.

Snake-Eyes almost slipped on the wet floor as he walked by the body, "Sloppy amateurs."

Zap covered his nose with his hand, "Why did they take the head and leave the body?"

"Obviously, to evade identification," said Duke. "We were getting too close." He then walked over to the wall and examined the writing.

"So while we were out there scratching our asses, waiting to repel a gunship, they slipped out under our noses with the head," Snake-Eyes said.

"And they left something behind too," said Zap, taking note of the sanguine graffiti. "It looks like it's written in blood?"

Duke pursed his lips as he struggled to read the writing, "It's standard Chinese..._which, if not victory, is yet revenge_."(1)

"What does it mean?" Zap asked.

"It's a challenge," said Hawk.

Stalker shook his head in confusion, "But for whom? Any why in Chinese? Why not Vietnamese – or even English: they know we're American."

"The only person in your unit that speaks Chinese is Preacher," Duke said, almost under his breath, as he pondered the significance of the words.

"You think they're going after Preacher?" Zap said, warily.

Duke shook his head, "No. The fact that they left it _here_ means that they expected him to be _here _to read it." He then gave Hawk a suspicious glance, "They're going to _Cholon_ aren't they?"

Hawk stared back at him, but ignored his question. "Duke, I want you to take Rock n' Roll and Zap; round up some troops and see if you can track down those mercenaries...Snake-Eyes and Stalker, I want you two to go into Saigon to back up Preacher--"

Duke interrupted Hawk saying, "With respect Colonel, if they're going to Cholon, they need someone who can speak Mandarin. I'm the logical choice."

Snake-Eyes sneered saying, "What about your precious Destro?"

"The team is more important." Duke replied.

Hawk nodded approvingly, "Stalker, do you think you can you handle the mercenaries?"

"No sweat."

"Ok then, Duke you're with Snake-Eyes. I'll call the embassy and see if they can spare some Marines to meet you there."

They left the medical bunker. Once outside, before splitting up, Snake-Eyes stopped to regard his teammates one last time. He was not the type of leader that gave _pep-talks_, but the looks that he gave each of his men expressed all the sentiments that words could not.

"Kilo Company, sound off!"

K Company replied in unison, "YO KILO!"

The men marched off to their destiny.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Preacher parked outside of the Bistro in Cholon. He walked around his jeep to the passenger side where his daughter was seated, playing with her new toy. She giggled as she jumped into his arms. He tried to put her down so that she could walk, but when she protested, he relented and carried her instead.

"Did you have fun?" he said in English.

"_Phoon_?"

"No, 'fun'...can you say 'fun'?"

"_Thun_?" She smiled wide, showing the gap where her two front teeth should be.

He returned her smile, "Close enough."

When he entered the Bistro, he was met by the Hostess dressed in pink and cerulean. When the little girl saw her grandfather, she ran over to him – stumbling a few times on the way. The grandfather had been repairing a section of wallpaper that had become unglued, so he didn't notice her at first. She tugged on his robe and showed him a toy that her daddy had bought for her. He picked her up and spun her around playfully before setting her back down. He looked toward the entrance of the bistro: to his disdain, he saw Preacher was still there. He did not acknowledge him.

Preacher too ignored the old man. Instead, he glanced around the bistro. There was a single customer seated in the corner with his back to him. He thought it was odd that the customer was wearing a large hakama with a silk overcoat. He concluded, from the raiment, that the customer was Japanese.

"Business is slow?" he said to the hostess, in Chinese.

"Many have left the area out of fear."

"A reasonable precaution; it would be advisable for you to do the same."

She shook her head saying, "No, _he_ will not leave, and I must stay with him,"

"He is a stubborn old fool--"

"And you are just like him," she said, smiling afterward. "I think that is why _my sister_ fell in love with you."

Preacher blushed, but then his countenance grew somber, "My unit is leaving tonight. I must go with them."

"I understand. What are you going to do?"

"When my obligation to them is over, I'm going to resign and come back for my daughter."

She looked over to her father, the old man, playing with the little girl. "His granddaughter is all that is left of _her_. I fear that he will not let go easily."

"Nor can I."

"Take care that your daughter does not become another casualty in this private war between you and my father."

Preacher eyed her suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

"It was not the childbirth that killed my sister, but rather her heart could not take the strain of being pulled between my father's Yin and your Yang."

He bowed his head, "Your words are wise; I will dwell on them."

She lowered her eyes, "I am humbled."

"...If I write, will you read to her."

"Of course. She is my niece."

"I am in your debt."

He looked at his daughter from across the room one last time before reluctantly leaving. The walk back to his jeep was the longest of his life. He sat in the car, but couldn't bring himself to drive away. Instead, he pondered as he stared at the Bistro from the outside. His contract ended in six month's; that was a long time to be away from his daughter. Assuming that he ever finds her again, will she even remember him?

VROOM! VROOM!

The sounds of a roaring engine and screeching tires brought Preacher out of his thoughts. Before he could react, a blue sedan came out of nowhere and T-boned his jeep, flipping the vehicle on its side. Preacher unbuckled his set belt and fell out, lying on the pavement and gasping for air.

Two police officers came on the scene, having witnessed the _accident_. As they approached, the driver of the sedan – wearing a gold sash – came out and greeted them. The passenger – wearing a black shirt - went around the front to check on Preacher. The policemen talked to _Gold_-_Sash_ in Vietnamese, but Gold-Sash only responded in Japanese; as a result, they did not understand each other.

After _Black_-_Shirt _examined Preacher, he gave a signal to his partner. Gold-Sash smiled in understanding. He pulled out a short sword, from under his sash, and sliced open the chest of the nearest policeman. The remaining officer ran away screaming. Gold-Sash threw his sword, lodging it expertly in the back of his fleeing victim. He walked over to the slain officer to retrieve his sword. He looked around the surrounding neighborhood; any onlookers had since retreated inside, locking their doors out of fear.

Gold-Sash went over to Black-Shirt, who knelt over the semi-conscious Preacher. He raised his sword to strike.

Black-Shirt immediately stood up and grabbed his sword arm. "No, he is for Tho to finish," he said in Japanese.

"So this is the one who opposed _Tho_?" Scoffing, he kicked Preacher over onto his back. "I am not impressed."

When Preacher heard Tho's name, a surge of adrenaline shot through his body. He punched the knee of Gold-Sash – causing him to lose his balance. He vaulted to his feet and punched the elbow – causing him to drop his sword. He then grabbed him by the sash and pushed him into Black-Shirt.

Both assassins stumbled over each other. Preacher pressed his advantage and rushed them with a flying kick. Gold-Sash rolled out the way as Preacher soared over him. Preacher changed the focus of his attention to Black-Shirt since he was still in range. His first priority was to take out the other enemy so as to even the odds.

He tackled Black-Shirt and brought his elbow down hard on the clavicle. The bone made a loud 'pop' when the point of his elbow snapped it in twain. As Black-Shirt fell to the ground in agony, Preacher saw Gold-Sash charging. He chambered his arm to shield his ribs from Gold-Sash's kick. The extra meat and bone provided sufficient padding, but the force of the kick sent him stumbling into a nearby lamppost – knocking the wind out of him.

Preacher rested against the post as Gold-Sash charged him with his _ninjato_. He let his legs go limp – relying on gravity to pull him down under the sword aimed for his neck. On the way down, he jabbed Gold-Sash's groin as the blade of his ninjato lodged into the lamppost. The assassin doubled-over and fell on top of him. Preacher pulled a .38 out of his ankle holster and jammed it under his chin. Before Gold-Sash could plead for mercy, Preacher pulled the trigger:

_BLAM!_

The explosion of the gunpowder was deafening. Preacher's ears were ringing, but he was grateful that he couldn't hear what he saw with his eyes. For the bullet tore through the throat and severed the tongue at its base. The force from the wake of the projectile caused the tongue shoot out of the mouth. As the bullet traveled through the sinus cavity, the mounting pressure caused the eyeballs to dislodge and dangle out of their orbs. The dense bone and flesh slowed the bullet's fatal trek just enough to spare the skull from an exit wound. However, it could not stop the brains from being liquefied as the bullet stirred into the grey-matter like a whisk.

He pushed the corpse off him and turned his pistol to Black Shirt – who was trying in vain to hold his shoulder together with is hand. When he saw Preacher aim the weapon, he looked him in the eyes, showing no emotion. Preacher returned his stare as he pulled the trigger.

_BLAM!_

Blood was everywhere; Preacher felt his stomach working backwards. He rolled over onto his side and threw-up onto the pavement. His hearing started to return as he was now able to detect the muffled sounds of screams coming from the Bistro.

He composed himself quickly – spitting out the last bits of undigested vomitus that coated the roof of his mouth as he rose to his feet. He took the short-sword lodged in the lamppost and a baton from one of the slain officers. Given what was at stake, failure was not an option. He prayed silently as he entered the Bistro:

_The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; the God of my strength, in Him I will trust, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge; my Savior, You save me from violence. _(2)

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Duke turned off the CB radio and put the receiver back on the hook. "That was Hawk; the embassy can't spare any Marines."

"Looks like we're on our own," said Snake-Eyes, as he blared the horn. Without slowing down, he cut the wheel and sped into the oncoming lane to cut around a slow-moving bus.

Duke released his grip from the side of the Jeep when they where stable again. "So what's the story with Preacher?"

"It's personal," he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Hey, I'm risking my life here too – I think we're past _personal_."

Snake-Eyes glanced at him briefly out of the corner of his eye. "How did you figure it out anyway?"

"Its one of the first things I learned in Language School: native speakers don't _code-switch_ to their local dialects unless there is an intimate familiarity between them. I didn't have to understand what Preacher was saying in the Bistro the other day to know that he had an uncommon relationship with the people in the community."

He snorted. "Einstein strikes again."

Taking his comment as a compliment, he continued, "I imagine this is over a girl. Is it the hostess – they seemed friendly?"

"No, wrong girl: Preacher's woman died during childbirth."

"_Childbirth..._So this is about the little kid with the flower? How did this happen?"

"Preacher's father was a Chaplain stationed in Okinawa. He fell in love with a hippie Greenpeace chick that ran an orphanage in Naha. They married and had a son. A few years later, the mother went back to the States, and Preacher stayed with his dad. He practically grew up around the dojos. By the time he was ten, he was fluent in three languages."

"That explains some things."

"When he was seventeen, he lied on his application to enlist so he could fight in Vietnam. He was a natural; I took him, along with Stalker, under my wing and trained them to be Lurps. He was turning out to be the best field commando I've ever seen, but, being young; he got stupid and fell in love. He always had an affinity for Asians."

"How did Hawk handle it?"

"He came down on him - _hard_. I was able to convince Hawk to keep him in the unit, but it was a mess. And it only got worse: when his woman died, _her_ father was awarded custody of the child since they were never properly married."

"So the old man from the restaurant is the child's grandfather?"

"Yes."

"What about common-law?"

"The rules are different here. I figure, she didn't want to go against her father's wishes and get married without his blessing."

"I can't believe they couldn't come up with a compromise."

"As you can imagine Preacher and his father-in-law don't exactly get along."

"Surely the Army has polices for this sort of thing?"

"The Army had a war to run; they had better things to do. But he did get visitation rights; us guys in the unit tried to help him out by using any excuse we could to get him into town without using up his leave."

Duke grinned with a realization, "Like that traditional pre-mission meal?"

"Exactly, but since we're pulling out, it's doubtful that he'll ever get to see her again. Like I said, it never did sit well with the old man that his daughter got knocked-up by a foreigner."

Duke curled his lip. "FUBAR."

Snake-Eyes nodded in agreement, "FUBAR."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Stalker's team moved swiftly through the tall grass. They were accompanied by a squad of Southern Army soldiers and followed the tracks left by the mercenaries. They stopped briefly as Stalker bent down to examine a blood trail left in the grass. The source of the blood was most likely from the head that the mercenaries stole. The trail was easy to follow - to easy. He surmised that the mercs didn't bother to cover their tracks because they were on the move.

Stalker signaled to his team by putting his hand over his mouth: there would be no more verbal communication. He then raised his fist to his shoulder and pumped his arm up-and-down in rapid succession. In understanding, the team started to march double-time behind him while staying in cover. Two miles later, they arrived at the edge of a ridge; Stalker raised his fist high in the air – ordering the men to halt.

Zap approached Stalker and signed, _I_ _know that look. What is it?_

_There's a paddy field over this ridge. That's where they're heading, _he signed in return.

_Why would they go there? There's no cover. _

_Rock's right about it being a chopper extraction. They're making a break for an LZ. _

Stalker raised his fist in the air again, and then opened his palm. The men immediately spread out over the ridge.

--oOo--

"I _ssssee_ them coming from over the ridge with your _package_ – ahead of _sssschedule_. Bludd's mercenaries are very efficient."

"They better be for the price," said the son. "And you seem to be right at home _commanding_ them in Bludd's absence."

The stranger did not respond. He gave the order to prepare for liftoff. Looking through his binoculars from the safety of the helicopter, he continued to monitor the four-man squad as they approached. Their point man stood up from the brush and gave the all-clear signal. The rest of the team stood up and started to march double-time to the chopper. Suddenly he heard 'popping' sounds in the distance. There was a red mist and two of the mercs fell still to the ground. The remaining two knuckled down and returned fire toward the unseen enemy.

The son's head perked when he heard the sound of gunfire. "What happened?"

"_Sssnipers_." He turned to one of the gunners, "Lay down _ssssupression_ fire to cover their escape."

The gunner obeyed and fired a volley toward the enemy's position. More shots were heard from the other side of the field; an explosion several feet away rocked the chopper.

A second gunner came to cover their flank, "They're coming in from multiple fronts – trying to pinch us."

The stranger pointed to the squad leader covering their forward position. "You there! Go retrieve the _package_!"

"Belay that," said the son, as he rose out of his seat.

"What are you doing? It's not _ssssafe_ out there. Leave this to the underlings!"

"No", the son replied. "This is _my_ responsibility."

The son stepped off the helicopter into the grass. He stood tall, not bothering to crouch under the vortex of the rotors. The _brat,_ worn over his shoulder, swayed in the wind – displaying his family colors like a flag. He marched across the muddy field to the salute of gunfire and exploding ordnance. A trail of blood, diffused into the marsh, lay before him like a red carpet. At the end of his march laid a dying soldier prostrate before him. His mission accomplished, the soldier handed the son his birthright before breathing his last. The son took what was his with reverence, regarding his reflection in the polished steel mask. As he held it, a stray bullet nicked the top of the mask; the resulting vibrations sounded like his father's wails from beyond the grave. The son took a key tied around his neck and unlocked the mask at its base. He removed the head inside and stared at his father's face one last time; his father's empty half-open eyes stared back. A tear ran down his cheek as he dropped his father's remains into marsh. He then held the empty mask high over his head and screamed to the heavens, _Fear gu aois_. He continued to chant in Gaelic as he slowly and deliberately put the mask on. Electric motors and servos locked it into place: the son has become the father.

Destro made his way back to the helicopter. Turning into the wind caused the brat to loose from his belt and flow behind him like a cape. The tall grass bowed before him in the breeze created by the rotors. Bullets whizzed by his head and shot around his feet, but they did not dare touch his person - they were beneath his notice. The sun came out from behind the clouds, as if awakened by the pomp and circumstance of war. To any onlookers from afar, the rays reflecting off the mask gave the appearance of a halo of fire. Like Helios made flesh, he stepped into his sky chariot as his men closed ranks behind him.

The stranger eyed him respectfully as he took his seat. "What are your orders _Lord_ _Desssstro_?"

"Take off."

His eyes narrowed, "You're not going to _desssstroy_ them?"

"We've delivered Tho's message; our obligation to him is at an end."

"But they are _ressssponsible_ for your father's death."

"I will _not_ inaugurate my vengeance in a rice field. Moreover, there are formalities that must be observed within my family that I cannot ignore."

--oOo--

Stalker's team watched the chopper rise and disappear into the sky. Stalker and Zap went over to the area to search for clues while Rock n' Roll broke off with the Southern Army troops to check the enemy LZ.

Once Rock n' Roll secured the area, he returned to the others. "All men are accounted for – no casualties."

"What do we do now?" said Zap.

Stalker kicked a dead mercenary over onto its back and checked its pockets. "The mission is scrubbed. We're going back."

Rock n' Roll picked the father's head up out of the marsh by the hair. "At least we stopped them from getting away with Destro's remains."

Stalker arched an eyebrow, noticing that the disembodied head was without its mask. "I wouldn't be so sure about that Rock."

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Snake-Eyes and Duke arrived at the bistro. The street looked like a war zone with bodies scattered everywhere. Snake-Eyes slowed the car to a crawl as they looked around. They didn't have the luxury of securing the area, but it appeared that they were alone. Duke caught a glimpse of drapes closing in a window across the street – as if they were being watched.

"There's Preacher's Jeep," said Snake-Eyes, as he parked next to the overturned vehicle. They both got out and split up to examine the area.

"We have an audience," said Duke.

Snake-Eyes nodded in agreement. He kneeled over the assassins, "The good news is Preacher is not among the dead. These two took a bullet to the head."

"But the police were carved up like a couple of Thanksgiving turkeys. What gives?"

As if in answer to his question, Snake-Eyes pulled out a short-sword hidden on one of the assassins.

"A sword? What in the hell are they doing with swords?"

"You're asking me?" he replied, nonplussed.

"Well they don't look like VC, and they're not dressed like the mercs that attacked the base."

"No, but they're definitely out-of-towners," said Duke. He noticed a tattoo on the arm of one of the dead assassins, "If I were to guess, I would say Japanese.

"Japs you say?"

Both men turned their heads in the direction of the bistro in response to the sounds of battle that erupted within.

"Looks like the party's still going," said Duke. "Preacher must have gone after the others inside the Bistro. I get the impression that these guys aren't simple villagers armed with machetes. How is he against swords?"

"I've never seen him handle a sword; I trained him in _close-quarter_ edged-weapon fighting. Although he also knows some weird Okinawan shit."

Duke and Snake-Eyes went around the back of the bistro. They kicked the door down and entered through the kitchen. When they got to the dining hall, they happened upon the old man surrounded by swordsmen dressed in black.

_OldMan_ wielded a spear as he fended off the attackers. Although, he did more than hold his own: every time he swung his weapon, his attackers gave ground. Snake-Eyes took point as they joined the battle. With twin Uzi's in hand, he sprayed the room with bullets to provide cover for OldMan. Duke acted as backup with his shotgun – taking out two assassins with one shot as they flanked Snake-Eyes.

"Thanks."

Before Duke could reply, a truck crashed through the front of the restaurant. Duke, OldMan and Snake-Eyes dove for cover behind the main counter as glass and other debris showered the room. Duke looked around the corner; he saw more black assassins exit the van. He drew his head back behind the wall in time to avoid a flash of metal that missed him and lodged into the baseboard. He pulled the star-shaped object out of the wood and examined it.

"Shuriken," OldMan said, in answer to Duke's perplexed looks.

"Don't these guys know that this is the twentieth century?" said Snake-Eyes.

OldMan put his spear aside and reached into a hidden panel under the counter. He pulled out a ringed broadsword and a sash that he then tied around his waist. He started to speak to Duke in Mandarin. Duke nodded his head in understanding and pulled Snake-Eyes aside.

"What did he say?" said Snake-Eyes.

"He said to go upstairs and help Preacher. He'll guard our flank," Duke replied.

"What about him?"

The Old Man took out a dagger hidden under his sash. He stood up from behind the counter, and with a flick of his wrist:

_CHA-THUNK!_

The dagger found its mark in one of the attacker's temples.

After seeing the display, Duke replied to Snake-Eyes, "I think he has things under control here."

The two broke off from the dining area and found the stairs leading to the second floor. More dead bodies littered the hallway. As they searched the rooms, halfway down the hall, they came across the hostess slumped to the floor. Her pink and cerulean dress was stained with red. Her severed arm lay next to her in a pool of blood. She was still alive, but her breathing was shallow. Duke knelt next her, took off his belt and tied it around her stump to stop the bleeding. When she came to, she started to scream and lash out. Duke grabbed her arm and talked to her in Mandarin – using soft re-assuring tones – until she calmed down. When she recognized the soldiers, she started pleading with Duke.

"What is she saying?" asked Snake-Eyes.

"She said that Preacher is on the roof."

She then grabbed Duke's lapel and started ranting frantically before she started to lose consciousness again.

Snake-Eyes shot Duke a worrisome expression, "What's wrong?"

Duke listened, struggling to translate her ramblings. "I don't know...it's some kind of warning: _The Ninja has her_."

"What is a _Ninja_?"

"I don't know. It's possible that I heard wrong; it was hard to understand her.

Duke took off his jacket and laid her head on it as a pillow. He searched some of the adjoining rooms and came back with a blanket. He wrapped her in the blanket before picking her up in his arms.

"What are you doing? We have to go!"

"She's going into shock. If I don't treat her, she'll die." He took note that the sounds of the battle below were getting louder. "Go ahead, I'll cover your flank and join you when I can."

Snake-Eyes went to the staircase leading to the floors above while Duke tended to the hostess.

--oOo--

"Where is she, Tho?"

Preacher followed Tho out to the middle of the roof away from his bodyguards. Tho drew his katana from its sheath and ceremoniously stabbed it into the floor. Likewise, Preacher threw away the weapons he was carrying. The loose-fitting hakama that Tho wore draped over him. He pulled his arms in and crossed them under his robe as he regarded Preacher with a sneer.

"In order to see her again, you _must_ defeat me in personal combat."

Preacher squared off against Tho. He dug the balls of his feet into the flooring for traction. His fists clenched at his sides as he prepared to sprint. Without regard for strategy, Preacher rushed him. All he wanted to do was knock that arrogant smirk off his face.

Tho gave ground and shifted his torso slightly, at alternating angles, to dodge the furious combinations that Preacher threw at him. He squatted to duck a spinning back kick aimed for his head. He then caught the foot on the return and threw it violently out of joint. Preacher twisted in mid-air with the throw - spinning his body to pronate the joints in his leg back into alignment.

Tho followed the energy - kicking to sweep Preacher's feet as they alit on the ground. Having his legs thrown out from under him caused Preacher to fall hard on his back. Tho sneered as he looked down on him, "Your _tricks_ will not serve you here."

Preacher spun on his back, kicking as he vaulted to his feet. Tho hopped back out of range of Preacher's jumping-spinning back-kick. Tho taunted Preacher with small movements and blocks: it was like trying to punch water. This served to enrage Preacher further. He feinted toward Tho's midsection, then spun around with a furious back fist that connected with the side of his skull.

Tho turned with the attack and recovered in time to catch another windmill punch. He cranked Preacher's wrist and redirected his momentum to flip him on his back.

Preacher rolled with the flip and came about on his feet. He was breathing heavily, having wasted too much energy, spurring him to rethink his strategy. He glanced at the sword sticking out of the floor. In desperation, he made a break for the weapon.

Tho's speed was incredible. Even though Preacher had a head start, by the time he reached the sword, they were already neck-and-neck. Preacher dove and grabbed the hilt a split-second before Tho. His momentum was sufficient to pry the sword out of the floor as he rolled to his feet. He somersaulted backwards and landed behind Tho.

Before Tho could turn around, Preacher drove the sword into him from behind. Tho arched his back and screamed as it entered. When Preacher saw blood trickle down the blade from Tho's back, he twisted it into the flesh for good measure, allowing himself a smile of satisfaction when Tho's body bucked against the sword.

"Now tell me where my daughter is you bastard, or I swear to God I'll run you through!"

Preacher kept a tight grip on the katana as Tho answered him with more protracted screaming. Looking around, he thought it was strange that Tho's henchman had not come to his aid. He slowly began to realize that they were not screams of pain, but screams of triumph. A sickness washed over him that struck him at the core of his soul. He looked at Tho's back: there was a strange movement under his hakama top. Tho drew his arms into his robe, unfastened his obi and threw his top off.

Preacher was subjected to a sight that no father should ever have to see: his daughter strapped to the back of his mortal enemy; the sword in his hand plunged into his child's chest.

_Oh my God...This isn't happening..._

She kicked in vain against the straps. Her hands grabbed onto the sword, trying to pull it out; slicing her little fingers against the edge of the blade in the process. Her mouth was tapped shut, denying him the sound of her voice. He struggled to pull the sword out, but his hands were shaking – causing it to cut into her more. He looked away. The horror on her face and the pleading look in her eyes was more than he could bear.

Tho unfastened the straps and threw her off. As the girl fell, Preacher released the katana and dove to catch her.

He sat there, powerless, with her in his arms - watching the light fade from her eyes, _Not her too...you can't take her away from me too. _He tried to scream, but was denied even that simple luxury. All that his paralyzed vocal chords could manage was a raspy hiss.

Tho snapped his fingers and two henchmen came to his side. The first henchman blotted the sweat from his body with a towel. The second underling clothed him in a fresh shirt. He looked down at Preacher with contempt as he said, "I told you that you would pay _in blood_..."

Tho picked up his sword and circled around Preacher as he twirled it with his wrist. He noticed that Preacher was oblivious to his presence. Not one to be ignored, Tho slowly slid the tip of his blade between Preacher's second and third ribs. Preacher did not resist as the sword cut through skin and muscle, piercing the left-upper lung and popping it like a balloon. He stopped when Preacher winced involuntarily – satisfied that he now had his attention:

"Arrogant American trash – you come from across the ocean and presume to _teach_ the ways of war? Here is your first real war lesson: there is no greater _shield_ than your enemy's love. If you surround yourself with that which he cherishes, then you will become _invincible_."

Tho raised his sword – ready to give the killing blow. He regarded Preacher one last time, his lips quivered and his voice started to crack as he said, "The man that you killed in the bunker last night was my son!"

Preacher closed his eyes in anticipation of the sweet release.

"THO!"

Snake-Eyes sprinted onto the roof – an Uzi in each hand. Tho retreated to the ledge while his guards swarmed in to protect him with their swords drawn.

Snake-Eyes fired into the guards as he rushed them. Not one bullet hit its mark. The guards advanced upon him slowly. Their intuition was uncanny: every time Snake-Eyes fired his weapons they jumped out of the line of fire. He screamed in frustration as they taunted him in foreign curses. Although he couldn't hit them, they stayed back at a distance. It became obvious that they were waiting him out. Eventually he would run out of bullets; as soon as that happened, they would cut him to pieces. He retreated behind an air intake. While he reloaded, he shouted across the roof at Preacher.

"Preacher, snap out of it!"

Preacher did not respond. He looked back toward the roof entrance, _What's taking Duke so long_? Unfortunately, from the sounds of the gunfire below, Duke probably had his hands full. He was alone; if he was going to survive, he had to change tactics. Someone threw a smoke grenade: they were coming. He wondered how they were able to dodge the bullets...how they were able to _leap into air_ so fast. A smile came to his face: he had a plan.

He threw away his UZIs – they would be too tempting a crutch. He pulled out his .45 pistol – what he needed was precision. He stepped out from behind the intake and walked slowly into the mist. He held the gun in his right hand with it pointed straight out in front of him. He gripped his right wrist with his left hand for support. When he saw the first guard, he resisted the urge to shoot and remained relaxed. Suddenly the guard rushed him and leapt into the air with his sword drawn.

BLAM!

The bullet found its mark as the guard fell to the ground dead. He heard voices surrounding him. He tracked a wisp of displaced smoke overhead with his pistol.

BLAM!

The guard screamed in surprise as the bullet tore into him. He fell with a thud onto the rooftop and thrashed around in the throes of death.

BLAM!

Another bullet found its target. Snake-Eyes was now the hunter. He reasoned that although they could jump around faster than he could see, once they were airborne, it was like shooting _skeet_. When the last of the guards was dispatched, he approached Tho - his pistol aimed directly at the murderer's heart.

"Most impressive," said Tho. He stood tall and relaxed with his hands clasped behind his back.

Snake-Eyes cocked the hammer and trained the cross-hairs between Tho's eyes. "That's what happens when you bring knives to a gunfight--"

BLAM!

Snake-Eyes flinched as he felt a hot prick in his neck. Then the sensation of a warm wetness rushed over his chest. He brought his hands to his throat and could feel his life's blood spurting out in time with his pulse. He tried to curse, but could only manage a 'gurgling' sound. He fell to his knees, clutching his throat.

"No," Tho said, flippantly. "We brought guns as well."

Snake-Eyes looked around into the haze to see the outlines of more guards stepping into view – he was surrounded. More guards appeared from over the ledge, having scaled the wall from the other side. They were armed with rifles. He lost track of his pistol. His only chance was to make a run for the air vent. On pure adrenaline, he rose to his feet and lumbered back for cover.

BLAM!

A round tore into his thigh. He fell to the ground. Ignoring the pain, he dragged himself toward cover – if he could just make it to his UZIs, he could take a few of the bastards with him.

One of the guards caught up to him - aiming the rifle point blank at the back of his head. He knew what was coming next, but that didn't stop him from continuing to crawl defiantly to the air vent. He clenched his teeth when he heard the bolt pull back on the guards AK-47:

CHA-THUNK!

Snake-Eyes looked over his shoulder at the source of the strange sound. The guard standing over him had a throwing dagger sticking out of his forehead. His eyes rolled up into their sockets and he slumped to the ground.

Duke and OldMan had made it to the roof. Duke laid down suppression fire as OldMan ran to Snake-Eyes and dragged him to the air vent. Snake-Eyes was barely conscious and had trouble breathing. When he saw the damage to his neck, he took out one of his throwing daggers. Using the blade, he made an incision at the base of the throat. He then bit off the head of the dagger and inserted the hollow bamboo shaft into the incision. After coughing up some blood, Snake-Eyes' breathing became regular again. He slowly opened his eyes as OldMan continued to work on him - ripping his sleeve off and wrapping it around the neck in order to control the bleeding.

Duke reloaded as he signaled by pointing at Preacher. OldMan nodded in understanding. Duke came from behind cover and laid down another volley suppression fire. OldMan sheathed his broadsword and then made a break for Preacher. Snake-Eyes picked up one of his UZIs and assisted Duke. Tho and his guards dove for cover as the soldiers tore up the surrounding rooftop with gunfire.

OldMan used the cover of the crossfire to make it to Preacher. He shook him, but Preacher did not respond. He looked into his son-in-laws eyes and saw life, but no signs of humanity. Then he looked down in his arms to see the lifeless form of his granddaughter. It was then, for one brief moment, that the noise of the firefight was paled in comparison to one man's screams of despair.

OldMan's angst caught the attention of Tho, who monitored the firefight from the safety of ledge. His eyes narrowed when he saw OldMan rush one of his troopers. Before the trooper could aim his weapon properly, he decapitated him with one clean stroke from his broadsword. Tho watched the disembodied head bouncing along the roof briefly then backtracked toward OldMan; their eyes locked onto each other. He had his sword at the ready as OldMan ran straight to him. The sole guard that remained between them aimed his rifle then fired. However, OldMan's broadsword was wide enough to use as a shield while he closed the distance. Before the guard could pop off another burst, OldMan leapt past him like a flitting grasshopper. The guard's body turned to face him for another shot, but his head had other plans as it peeled back and fell over - dangling off the base of the neck by a flap of skin.

Two more bodyguards broke off from the firefight to aid their master. Tho ordered them to resume their posts. He gripped the handle of his katana, but kept it sheathed as the Old Man stood ten feet in front of him.

"Who are you?" asked Tho.

"Your Death!"

Bullets continued to fly by randomly during the protracted firefight. However, in that moment, Tho and OldMan considered themselves to be the only two people on that rooftop; The sounds of gunfire were no more than white noise.

Neither one moved, yet the duel was already well underway. They both stood, unflinching, while they read each other's Qi. There could be no room for error: a mental map of each strike is made; possible avenues of escape are accounted for. Once the sword is drawn, it is committed to follow the path laid out for it.

Metal scraped against scabbard in stereo; even to an adept eye, it would have been impossible to discern who drew first.

Tho drew his katana backhanded - aiming for the legs. He was denied his target: OldMan had already leapt into the air with his broadsword raised high. Tho reversed the grip on his sword and brought it up to defend his head. He released his scabbard, enabling his free hand to re-enforce his grip just in time to block the razor-sharp death aimed for the top of his skull. When their swords _kissed, _Tho angled his katana downward - skimming the broadsword harmlessly down the length of his blade, like rain trickling off of a rooftop.

OldMan was left overextended when he landed with his left side exposed. Tho spun around, angling his sword to decapitate, but OldMan tilted his neck in time to duck the slash. As he rolled his head around-and-under, he could feel the steel of the katana as it brushed against his skin – still warm from his granddaughter's blood. He regained his balance and lunged for Tho's belly.

Tho used his momentum to twist out of the way and bring his weapon down to parry the thrust aimed for his abdomen. Swords, eyes, and Qi death-locked for what seemed like an eternity. Tho sneered when he detected a hint of a tremble in OldMan's sword and a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. Using all of his strength, he pushed off with his katana and charged – digging his shoulder into OldMan's chest.

OldMan stumbled backwards, but recovered by rolling out of range. Tho continued his advance while swinging his sword furiously in a figure-eight motion. All that OldMan could do was roll in order to stay ahead of the charge. Every time he came about, he raised his broadsword to use it as a shield. And every time, his arm complained from having to support the weight of his weapon coupled with the force absorbed from each block.

Tho stopped his advance when he had him backed up against the opposite ledge. Using his broadsword for support, OldMan rose slowly to his feet - clutching his chest with his free hand.

"Your sword is heavy, and you are tired. You will _not_ have my death today old man." Tho signaled for two of his bodyguards to close ranks in front of him. The guards drew their katanas and engaged the old man.

With the last of his strength, he swung wide with his broadsword – disarming the guards. They retreated back and drew their guns. OldMan staggered – his chest heaving. He watched helplessly as Tho turned his back to him, as if he were beneath his notice.

Tho retrieved his scabbard and, after wiping off the blade on the uniform of one of his slain troopers, sheathed his katana. "Kill them all, but save the father for last," he said, evenly, as he disappeared over the side of the ledge.

--oOo--

Preacher sat calmly in the eye of the firestorm. He looked down on his daughter; her face looked peaceful - as if she were asleep. A stray bullet entered the thorax of the corpse, forcing the remaining air out of the lungs; creating the illusion that it still breathed. He knew this was not possible, but the part of him that was still a father forced him to instinctively bend over to shield the remains with his body. Another stray bullet missed his head by inches, landing instead in his deltoid. He waited in anticipation, eager for that one well-placed shot that would take him out of this miserable existence of flesh.

_It won't be long now, baby. Soon I'll be with you and mommy. We'll be a family again and daddy will hug you and kiss you forever and ever. _

--oOo--

From Duke's vantage point, he saw the tide of battle was not in their favor. Troops were closing in on OldMan; Snake-Eyes had passed out – eliminating him as a source of gun fodder. Preacher was sitting in the center of the roof, the enemy ignored him, as if he was invisible – he might as well have been. He checked the clip in his rifle. He then peeked around the edge of his cover and immediately drew back to avoid the hail of bullets.

He sniffed the air, and then spat on the ground. The enemy was poised to overrun his position and he had only _one_ bullet left. He took a stogie out of his pocket and put it in his mouth. He searched his pockets and cursed when he realized that he didn't have any matches left. He took his cigar, placed it next to the rifle shaft and pulled the trigger:

BLAM!

The muzzle flash of the gun lit the stogie. He put it back in his mouth and closed his eyes as he took one last drag. Ignoring the bullets ricocheting around him, he kicked his head back and prayed. He prayed for America, he prayed for his fallen comrades, he prayed for his family – even his screw-up half-brother. A brisk breeze brought him out of his meditation – but it was more than a breeze. He slowly opened his eyes and gasped; God had sent him an Angel:

"YEEEEE-HAAAAW!"

Everyone on the roof looked skyward. A Huey hovered several feet overhead. Wild Bill's battle cry could be heard over the helicopter's loudspeaker. The bay doors slid open, Hawk looked out on his men pinned down and bleeding on the battlefield below. He popped the latch on the chain gun that was bolted to the cabin – he didn't look happy.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRAP!

The enemy scattered as Hawk poured a thousand rounds onto the rooftop from above. The ones that didn't jump over the side were torn apart.

When the roof was clear, Hawk gave the order to set down. Before WildBill could comply, a flight pod come in view from over the side of the building. The pod came within 25-feet of the chopper and hovered in place. Seated at the controls was General Tho; he had a smug expression on his face as he drew his hand across his neck – giving them the _kill_ sign.

"What in the hell is that?" said Wild Bill.

"Looks like _trouble,_" Hawk replied.

Hawk swung the chain gun toward the pod and pulled the trigger. With a blast from the jets, Tho shot straight up into the air and out of the line of fire as he flew across the front of the chopper.

FZZAP!

A blue light, emanating from the pod, raked across the cockpit, leaving behind an orange scar of burning glass seared across Wild Bill's HUD. He instinctively took evasive action - trying to gain altitude on the flight pod.

"That sum'bitch just shot a _laser beam_ at my Huey!"

Wild-Bill brought the copter about, trying to keep the gun-side facing the flight pod. Hawk fired the chain gun, but Tho had already darted out of the line of fire.

Hawk cursed when he missed the pod again. "Get me a shot, dammit!"

"I'm trying sir, but that varmint is slipperier than the drawers off a _honeymoon bride_!"

FZZAP!

Smoke started to flood the cabin when the laser pierced the side of the hull. Hawk took off his jacket and tried to fan the smoke away from the cockpit.

"There's two things you just don't do to a Texan and get away with it: one is tellin' him that _ain't _ain't no word, and the other is taking pot-shots at his lady."

"Soldier, you _do_ realize that this Huey is the property of the United States Government and is _not_ a woman?"

"Shucks, you and I know it, but don't let _her_ hear you say that, sir...Aw shoot, were did varmint go?"

WildBill banked sideways at full speed when he lost sight of Tho.

FZZAP!

The Huey moved out of the line of fire just in time to avoid a blast aimed at the rear rotor. Hawk grabbed onto some linkage to keep from falling over the side. He could feel the helicopter tremble from the stresses.

"We can't take much more from that laser!" he said.

"I have an idea sir, but you'll need to tie yourself to the cabin."

Hawk straddled the chain gun and secured himself with the surrounding linkage. "What do you have in mind?"

"Do you think you can shoot that thing upside-down?"

In comprehension, Hawk shot the pilot a sideways glance, "...Have you ever done this before soldier?"

"Ask me when it's over."

WildBill lined up for another volley. As usual, before Hawk could fire, Tho easily passed over him and angled in for another attack run. He strafed the chopper's unarmed side, causing smoke to erupt from the tail assembly. A sneer came across his face as the chopper started to violently barrel roll sideways. He licked his lips in anticipation of the chopper going into a tailspin. He started to revel in his victory, when he felt that something was wrong: in mid-roll, over the horizon of the chopper's belly, he saw Hawk's inverted face and wondered why he was grinning.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRAP!

Tho was in awe – its not everyday you get to see an upside-down helicopter. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to turn his back to the hail of bullets – using the pod's engine as a shield. The pod shook as the bullets tore in to the turbine. The engine sputtered and smoke shot out of the exhaust. By the time the chopper completed its barrel-roll attack, the pod managed to stay in one piece, but it was fatally wounded. He struggled to regain control as he spun helplessly back to earth.

WildBill looked over the edge of his HUD to see the pod slam into the side of the Bistro, "Whoo-Wee! That sum'bitch blowed up _real good!_"

--oOo--

The smoke spewing from the side of the building obscured Dukes vision as he worked to control the bleeding from Snake-Eyes' wounds. The field tracheotomy allowed him to breathe, but he was already pale from blood loss. He glanced over at Preacher across the roof, he was still sitting up, so he assumed that his injuries were not as extensive. Thankfully, a strong gust of wind blew the smoke away. From the sound of the rotors, he could tell that the Huey was landing behind him.

Hawk came up to him with a stretcher and helped him to carry Snake-Eyes to the chopper. As they loaded him on the Huey, OldMan met them, carrying his unconscious daughter. Duke took the hostess into his arms and placed her next to Snake-Eyes.

The three men then went over to Preacher. OldMan took the lifeless child from Preacher's arms. Duke watched him as he walked away and disappeared into the stairway with his granddaughter – never to come back.

Duke kneeled next to Hawk and examined Preacher. He gasped when he saw the extent of the wounds. Preacher breathed in shorts rasps. Blood bubbled out from the laceration in his collapsed lung. His arms and legs were riddled with sword cuts and stray bullet holes. He sat in a pool of his daughter's blood mixed with his own. How he managed to stay conscious was a mystery. They placed him on the cot; his eyes were open, but his body was limp, as dead weight.

When everyone got on the chopper, Hawk ordered them to lift off. He watched as Duke broke out the chopper's first-aid kit and worked on the injured.

"How does it look?" he asked.

Duke shook his head, "These people won't survive without immediate medical attention."

Hawk nodded in agreement. He turned to WildBill and ordered, "Head for the Hospital near the embassy."

"Begging the Colonel's pardon, but my orders are to return to the Kitty Hawk--"

"Belay that soldier, if your CO has a problem with that, then he can take it up with me."

WildBill obeyed and changed course. Hawk watched Duke examine Preacher. Duke checked his pupils with a small flashlight and felt for his pulse.

"What's wrong with him?" Hawk asked.

"I don't know. He's catatonic. It's like he's given up."

"Can you patch them up till we make it to the hospital?"

"The girl is stable. The men each have a 50-50 shot, but I can't treat them _both_."

Hawk's eyes softened. He sighed before saying, "Then choose _one_."

Duke glanced between Snake-Eyes and Preacher. He curled his lip in frustration, then began to work on Preacher. He opened his shirt and applied pressure to his wounds.

"What can I do to help?" Hawk asked.

"Keep Snake-Eyes' _trach_ clear and release the pressure on his tourniquet every few minutes."

It was then that Preacher coughed up blood, closed his eyes and slumped against the side of the cabin. Duke continued to work frantically to close his wounds. "Damn you Preacher! Fight!"

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

A black armored sedan pulled into the American Embassy the following morning. The car parked in the back entrance. Two Marine MPs stepped up and opened the door. Colonel Hawk stepped out of the car and allowed himself to be escorted into the building. After signing in, he was led to a reserved meeting hall that was under guard. Once inside, he put his briefcase on the table. He saw Duke sitting in the far corner of the room. When Duke stood at attention, Hawk returned his salute. Just then a secretary entered the room pushing a breakfast tray carrying coffee and pastries. After she left, the two men helped themselves to coffee before sitting at the table.

"How is he? Did he pull through?" Duke asked.

Hawk shook his head, "He didn't make it. The other one is still in critical condition."

"I'm sorry Colonel, he was a good soldier." Duke saw from his expression that this was a sensitive matter for Hawk, so he quickly changed the subject, "Did you read my final report?"

"Yes I've read it. Make sure you keep a copy for yourself in case there's a formal inquiry."

Duke nodded, "I typed it in triplicate."

"Did General Flagg summon you here?"

"Yes sir, I'll be the acting DIA liaison until my boss arrives."

At that moment, the door opened. General Flagg, Hawk's immediate superior, entered the room. Behind him was a tall man in his late twenties dressed in a black suit. Flagg introduced him as special agent Sitwell. After introductions were finished, the men all took a seat, with Flagg at the head of the table.

Flagg started the meeting by addressing Hawk, "Abernathy, you _do_ realize that to call this a _disaster_ is a gross understatement."

"I went into this with the full knowledge that someone would have to take the fall; that's something that I'm prepared to do."

"Dammit Clayton, it's not that simple! If you go down, there will questions raised; questions that should not be answered."

"Why not? I have always maintained that we wouldn't need secret POW extraction units if all of our POW's were returned in the first place--"

"This isn't about your mandate, Colonel," Sitwell interjected. "You screwed up – plain and simple. Now the CIA has to clean up your mess."

"_My_ mess?"

"_You_ authorized a strike force led by American soldiers who are supposed to be official noncombatants. And _you_ personally instigated a high-profile firefight in the middle of the city - leaving two of your men down and dozen's of witnesses to keep quiet. All of this in direct violation of a treaty that our CiC signed in good faith--"

"Don't give me that. You and I both know that the Paris Accords are a joke. In any event, this had nothing to do with the conflict with the North anyway. This was a coordinated terrorist attack on American interests. In my estimation, we were obliged to act."

"_In your estimation_? I'm afraid that you presume too much for your rank _Colonel_."

"My men were in danger. What would you have me do Sitwell?"

"I would have you consider the big picture: if the cease-fire fails, hostilities will escalate. America will delay pulling out. If that happens, Warsaw and China won't sit on the sidelines much longer. I don't have to tell you where that could lead."

"Maybe you should have thought of that _before_ your people sent in Panther Force to take out Tho," said Duke.

Sitwell glared at Duke, "I beg your pardon?"

Duke returned his glare, "With all due respect sir, I know that I'm just a grunt, but let give you _my_ take on the big picture. When America pulls out, I think we can all agree that Saigon will fall. Now losing Vietnam to the Commies doesn't sit well with the REMFs back home, so what do they do? They call in _The Agency_ to enlist a bunch of knuckle-draggers to run a _false-flag operation_ behind enemy lines."

Flagg leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, "That's a serious accusation Sergeant. To what end?"

"By masquerading as VC and killing everything in their path, they'll have created a groundswell of sentiment against Anti-North occupation from the populace. By using terror, they can proliferate a _strategy of tension_ in order to undermine the communist regime and keep stability out of the region."

"That's very imaginative. Do you really expect that to stick?" Sitwell said, narrowing his eyes.

Duke clenched his jaw in anger, but kept his countenance respectful. "That's what I'm going to put into my report. So I guess we'll find out, sir."

"Ok, I've heard enough," said Flagg. "I'm not interested in assigning blame, I just want it fixed. I'm meeting with the CSA in nine hours. I want a plan outlined _before_ he gets here.

Flagg adjourned the meeting and dismissed Duke and Sitwell, while asking Hawk to stay behind. When they were alone, Flagg put his hat on the table and went over to the breakfast tray to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"What happened to the good old days when war was simple?" he said, as he walked back.

"Are we going to let them get away with this General?"

"Like I said, there would be too many questions raised. Unfortunately, you don't get a star on your shoulder without making some compromises." Flagg sat down next to Hawk and took a sip. "You have to learn to pick your battles carefully Abernathy."

"It's not just about this sir…Six years and we have nothing to show for it: the waste of resources, manpower and lives. They brought us here, didn't let us win it, and left some of us behind."

General Flagg nodded in agreement before taking another sip of coffee. "You do realize there will be formal inquiry. I don't know how much of this I can protect you from."

"I don't care about that. What's going to happen to K Company? My men?"

"I promise there will be no blowback for your men. As for K Company, I imagine that its colors will be retired, but the resolution that established your TOE will remain in effect."

"Why? The mission's over."

"As a place-holder. That way DIA can keep the unit in-house."

Hawk smirked. "You mean keep the _funding _for the unit in house."

"The way I see it, your regular Army _JOEs_ held their own against a rouge Dark Ops unit, an entire NVA regiment, and a terrorist insertion team. I'm sure SOCOM can find something else for them to do."

Hawk left General Flagg. In the hallway outside, he was greeted by a young marine who met him at attention. Hawk saluted back and ordered him at ease.

"Sir, your man in critical condition has gone AWOL."

Hawk eyed the young MP incredulously for several seconds before answering, "What do you mean he's _gone AWOL? _Do you realize the condition he was in?"

"He apparently overpowered the MP guarding his room and left the hospital before the transport arrived," he replied, nervously.

Hawk mused as he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "How many people know about this?"

"Just me and the guard involved sir."

"Keep it that way."

End Chapter 6.

* * *

(1) _Paradise__ Lost. Book ii. Line 105._

(2) _2_ _Samuel 22:2-3 _


	7. Chapter 7

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Chapter 7

GI Joe Headquarters – November 10, 1989

Things had settled down over the course of a week. It had gotten so tense for a while that Jinx actually welcomed a return to the mundane. She was re-reading the latest issue of her favorite magazine, while Amy sat across the office at her desk, painting her nails. She looked up from her reading when she saw Stalker come into the office pushing an empty cart.

_What's he doing here?_ Jinx wondered, as she put her periodical away.

Stalker walked around the counter and parked the cart next to Amy's desk, "You left your cart in the receiving office last night, I figured I would save you a trip."

"Thank you Lonzo. That's so sweet."

He blushed as he scratched his scalp under his beret, "Are you ladies coming to the Grunt's Lounge after the shift change? There's gonna be an Iron Curtain party."

"What's an _Iron Curtain_ party?" Jinx asked.

Amy rolled her eyes, "Sheesh Jinx, don't you know what's going on in the world?"

She pouted. "I've been too busy to keep up."

Stalker's body-language changed when he noticed that two men dressed in business suits had entered the office. When they asked for Lt. Jenkins, Amy directed them to the office across the counter. Stalker eyed them intently as they knocked on his door.

"Excuse me ladies…I have to get back _on post_."

"Goodbye Lonzo." Amy gazed at Stalker as he walked away. When he was gone, she resumed painting her nails. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Jinx was looking at her.

She turned to her and blushed when she saw Jinx's mischievous grin, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"…_Lonzo_?"

Amy shrugged, "Well, he _said_ to call him _Lonzo_."

She was going to continue to tease Amy when she finally noticed the Suits go into Jenkins' office. She didn't know why, but their appearance made her feel ill at ease. It was no surprise when Jenkins called her in.

She entered the office nervously; the two visitors towered over her as she stood by Jenkins' desk.

"Akamatsu, these agents are from the office of the Auditor General. Can you debrief them on your progress with General Hawk's file?"

The way the agents looked at her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Regardless of _who_ they claimed to be, she felt that she couldn't trust them.

The lead agent eyed her with an unemotional expression. "We'll need to see _all_ of your documentation."

"Of course," she said with a placating smile. "I have the originals in my locker. Wait here and I'll bring them."

She left the room and went to her desk across from Amy.

Amy watched as Jinx started to rifle through her things, "You have that look again…"

She continued to shuffle through her desk drawer, "Hmm?"

"...The thousand yard stare."

"Oh…sorry Amy." She pulled a large enveloped out and handed it to her, saying, "Can you do me a favor and mail this package in case you don't hear from me by the end of the day?"

"Sure." She took the envelope from Jinx and read the addressee, "Captain Vincent R. Falcone in Kuwait…Friend of yours?"

"Sort of. I'm sending him some…_insurance_ documents." She appeared detached as she logged out of her computer, "If anyone asks, I had to go to my locker."

Perplexed, she watched Jinx leave the office. "We have lockers?"

When she closed the door behind her, she noticed that there were two more agents standing outside. They eyed her suspiciously, but they let her pass. As she proceeded down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder to see that they followed behind her at a discreet distance.

The agents tailed Jinx to the end of the hall, where she then turned a corner. By the time they arrived at the intersection of the connecting corridor, she was gone. They fanned out to search the floor – there was no sign of her.

Jinx stepped out of a utility closet two hallways down – adjusting her blonde wig. She took the stairs one flight up. She stepped out into the hallway and saw a female Blacksuit walk by. She followed her, making it appear as if they were together. She kept a calm demeanor as a squad of security Blacksuits sprinted past them. She could hear BeachHead's voice over their receivers. It seemed like security was on a heightened sense of alert. Everyone on base must be looking for her.

She broke off from her unwitting escort and turned down an empty hallway – she needed to find a place to hide out and think. All was quiet in the hallway, so she turned the next corner without looking. She gasped: Stalker was standing right in front of her, escorted by a single Blacksuit.

"Jinx! Don't move." He unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt, "BeachHead, this is Stalker. I have Jinx in section Tango on the 5th floor. I'm bringing her in."

Jinx reached behind her head and pulled a forked metal pin (resembling a miniature sai) out of her hair. The Blacksuit raised his weapon in response.

"Stand down…both of you." He stood between the two of them, lowering the Blacksuits rifle as he cautiously approached Jinx. "Are you going to poke me with your hair-pin Corporal?"

She closed her eyes, "No."

She threw her weapon on the floor. Stalker walked over and turned her around. He grabbed her wrist as he took a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. When he brought the cuffs down, she shifted her hips violently – jerking Stalker's wrist in place of hers as the cuff latched. She then dropped to the floor, grabbed the chain and latched the other cuff to his ankle.

Cursing, Stalker hopped on one leg as he reached to grab her. She rolled under him and swept his remaining leg causing him to fall hard on his side.

Jinx rolled to her feet and kicked the rifle out of the hand of the Blacksuit as he raised his weapon.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Stalker shouted.

He watched Jinx disappear down the hall as he took out his walkie-talkie.

"BeachHead, I lost her. She's heading for section Sierra. Be advised that she is wearing a blonde wig." Before BeachHead could acknowledge, he turned it off and cursed again. "Get me the damn keys to these cuffs…NOW!"

When she was out of sight, she took off her wig and turned it inside-out. She put the wig back on – changing her hair color to red. Much of her black hair stuck out from under the wig, but she didn't have time to fix it properly – it would have to do. She peeked around the corner of an adjoining hall. There was a squad of Blacksuits searching the rooms.

She broke off and circled around – taking the scenic route to the south corner elevator. If she could make it to the common area, she could disappear among the rest of the personnel.

She made it to the hall leading to the south lobby. Behind her, on the far end, she saw the agents that she left behind from Finance on the floor below. They caught a glimpse of her and began running. She cursed and sprinted for the elevator. She was relieved when she saw the elevator doors start to open. Her streak of luck was short-lived, however, when she saw General Hawk in the car. She gasped and stopped in her tracks - conflicted as to whether she should run or fight.

Hawk looked around Jinx to the agents heading toward them, "Get in…Hurry!"

Jinx looked back to Hawk warily. Something about the urgency in his voice made her trust him. She entered the car as the doors drew to a close.

Hawk reached into his pocket and took out an executive key. He inserted the key into the control panel. The elevator controls immediately locked and the car started to lower. He then took out his walkie-talkie.

"BeachHead, this is Hawk. I have intercepted Jinx."

"Roger that. I'll order all units to stand down—"

"Negative. Your new orders are to _escort_ those knuckle-draggers off my base…Oh, and you don't have to be _polite_."

"Understood."

"I'm taking Jinx to _The Dungeon_ until this all blows over."

"Is that wise sir?"

"No. But I've had enough of this _cloak and dagger_ nonsense."

"Roger that. BeachHead out."

Jinx waited until Hawk put his radio away before asking, "Permission to speak sir--"

"Permission denied."

They stood in silence as the elevator continued under the electric hum of the motor. Suddenly the elevator came to an abrupt halt. A voice cut in over the intercom:

"Sorry General. The system detected an unauthorized presence with you in the car and implemented the counter-measures—"

"It's alright Sparks. I'm giving a _guest_ an impromptu tour of our lower facility. Pass code: YO JOE CHARLIE OSCAR 282 KILO…enable."

The elevator started again with a jolt. Jinx watched the floor indicator reach the basement. The elevator kept going down, even though there were no more floors listed on the panel.

"The CIA has gotten more brazen," Hawk mused. "Those agents were sent here to kidnap you right under my nose. I don't know where they would've taken you, but it would not doubt have been some place where I couldn't protect you."

"Why would they do this?" she asked.

"Fear…The _fear_ of certain questions…_questions_ that should _not_ be answered."

"Does this have something to do with the cover-up in old Saigon?"

He chuckled quietly under his breath, "You think this is about Cold War politics?"

The elevator came to a halt. The doors opened to a catwalk leading to a long narrow hallway. As she walked behind him, she could see the walls lined with heavy machine guns. At the end of the hall was a thick steel door controlled by an electronic terminal. After Hawk scanned his retina, giant gears behind the super structure engaged and the door slowly opened. They entered a huge multi-tiered chamber. Titanium pylons lined the superstructure for as far as she could see. She looked upwards: the pylons continued up for a half-mile, supporting the bedrock ceiling overhead.

They passed by a series of cages. She paused to peer into one of the larger ones. There was something stirring inside; a pair of glowing green eyes stared back at her. Suddenly, the behemoth charged. She gasped and instinctively latched onto Hawk's arm. When the creature bounced off of the electrified bars, it retreated to the back of its cage. Jinx blushed and released Hawk's arm. He looked down at her and gave her a reassuring smile before they continued on.

The noise served to awaken the denizens occupying the other cages. The hall was filled with the screams of strange flying creatures, giant monsters, and creepy-crawling things. She wondered if she stumbled upon some kind of genetic-engineered bio-warfare program. In the next section, was a set of smaller cages. The sounds from the cages sounded eerily human-like. She dared to look as she walked by and gasped. The beings inside were definitely humanoid, but they had blue skin and were dressed in insectoid armor: very much like the garb worn by Golobulus' elite guards.

"…Cobrala!" she exclaimed.

Hawk nodded. "A sanitization team came in after the battle in the Himalayas and found these survivors. The President and Joint-Chiefs decided to ship everything here. It was decided to keep the circle of knowledge as small as possible regarding Cobrala's existence. GI JOE headquarters was the logical choice because we already knew about them. An emergency meeting was held with the Auditor General. From there it was determined that select members of congress would be informed on a need to know basis only. We were allowed a degree of _creative financing_ in order to hide the purpose of any and all monies coming in to keep this facility operational: classic Black Project scenario - _on steroids_."

"I'm confused. If secrecy was so important, why on earth did they allow the Senate Oversight Committee to deploy the Finance Brigade? Why allow _any_ oversight at all?"

"Hiding ten million dollars is, and should be, a difficult thing to do. There's this little piece of paper called The Constitution and along with it comes the commensurate checks and balances that are pain to work around." He smiled inwardly with pride, "God, I love this country."

"So what does this have to do with K Company?"

"This has nothing to do with K Company. _Your_ poking around made the wrong kind of people nervous; that's why they came after you...I guess it's just your bad luck, _Jinx_," he said, with a hint of sarcasm.

She lowered her eyes, "How much trouble am I in, sir?"

"A lot, corporal," he said with a stern tone. "I considered busting you down to private, but I have a more fitting punishment in mind: In addition to your duties in finance, you are to oversee all transactions and operational costs involved with The Dungeon."

Her eyes perked. She looked up at Hawk with quizzical eyes.

Hawk gave her a reassuring grin before saying, "As you have demonstrated, _true_ intelligence work is about following the money. _Your_ job is to make sure that _our_ money trail remains _invisible_…Do you think you can handle a little _Financial Ninjutsu_?"

She smiled, then blushed as she looked down at her feet again, "Yes sir."

Hawk led her to a lift that took them to the uppermost tier. Once there, they passed through more security measures before being led to the command center. The command deck was lined with electronic equipment monitored by – _Green-Shirts_.

Cover-Girl was standing at the main display terminal next to Sparks. When she saw Jinx she acknowledged her with a grin. Jinx blushed then nodded in return. She felt guilty for thinking so ill of her before. Sparks walked over to meet them and stood at attention after saluting Hawk.

Hawk returned his salute, "Sparks, set Jinx up with temporary quarters and give her the nickel tour. I'm going back top-side and will send for her later."

Sparks and Jinx saluted and left. Hawk got himself a drink of water and retreated to his office located in A_uxiliary Control_. At the entrance, an agent dressed in a black business suit waited for him. He was in his early forties and had salt-and-pepper colored hair.

Hawk addressed him as he approached, "The next time your goons come into my house without knocking, I'll have them shot on site, Sitwell."

"Sorry, they get overzealous sometimes. But, like me, they take national security matters very seriously."

"I don't appreciate the insinuation. This is _my_ base and I am still the GI JOE commander."

"_Up there_ you're the boss…_down here_, however, the lines are little fuzzy."

"That's something I hope to rectify. To tell you the truth Sitwell, I don't know how a rear-echelon desk-jockey like you managed to slime his way in here in the first place. You're still the same weasel I met all those years ago in Saigon."

"I'm here to make sure you don't screw up…again. Or would you prefer to have the President explain to six _billion_ people that everything we know about history, archaeology, and maybe even _God_ is wrong."

"Hey! Watch your mouth boy."

"Of course general. I defer to your judgment, even _if_ you decide to let a finance clerk into the circle."

"That _finance clerk_ is a _soldier_ and she knows the drill."

The finality in Hawks tone made it clear that the conversation was over. Sitwell stood aside and let him pass into his office.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

Somewhere, over an uncharted island in the South Pacific, an unmarked amphibious aircraft approached for a landing. It skimmed the waves to come to a rest at a pier. An aged General Tho step off the craft and walked the pier to shore. He was met by a team of paramilitary bodyguards who escorted him to an armored RV.

The engine roared and the vehicle sped off down the path. The guard at post one opened the steel reinforced gate to allow them to pass. As they drove through the dense bush, a trooper manned the turret atop the RV – ready to repel any of a dozen man-eating predators that Tho had imported as a first line of defense.

The guard at post two was already prepared for their arrival. He started the engine of the boat and, once the RV boarded, ferried them across a large moat. The piranha swimming in the murky water occasionally broke the surface – hoping to be fed by scraps of meat that are usually thrown overboard at feeding time.

After they crossed, the RV made its way to the final guard post: a giant wall fifty feet high that surrounded most of the complex. Its smooth surface of unscalable marble and whitestone reflected the late-afternoon sunlight. Guards, spaced out every hundred feet, perpetually scanned the grounds below. The draw bridge on the East wall was the sole point of entry into the impregnable fortress.

The door lowered. Tho disembarked and walked the rest of the way on foot. He worked hard and killed many to secure his private empire. He is the master of all that he surveys. All of his enemies are slain, all of his allies are held in check with bribes, everyone else runs from him in fear.

He arrived at his private suite and turned on his security monitors. Every square foot of the island is under video surveillance. If anyone were to approach, he would see them coming. Satisfied that the area was secure, he turned on his projection TV. With his satellite uplink, he could watch every television broadcast on earth. As he warmed himself by the fire, he decided to watch the news so as to catch up on his holdings in Eastern Europe.

He turned down the volume on the television and looked around the dimly lit room. It was disturbingly quiet. He went over to the liquor cabinet, and poured _two_ glasses of scotch. He then returned to the desk by the fireplace and placed one of the glasses on the desktop.

"Come out and drink with me," he said, to no one in particular.

Snake-Eyes stepped out of the shadows and came into view. He kept his katana sheathed, but approached cautiously.

"I congratulate your skill. You have no doubt bypassed my surveillance systems, side-stepped my traps, and defeated my personal guards…"

Snake-Eyes walked over to the desk. He picked up the drink that Tho poured for him and threw it into the fire.

Tho smiled as he poured out his own poisoned drink, "…and evaded my final trap."

Snake-Eyes grabbed Tho and threw him into a wall. He rushed him - backhanding him across the face, cranking his arm and flipping him over the desk. Tho spat blood onto the floor.

"May I at least _see_ the face of my executioner?"

Without hesitation, Snake-Eyes snapped off his visor and took off his mask.

Tho's eyes widened, "Yes I remember you from Saigon." He stood up, brushed himself off and straightened his robe before continuing, "It was a _glorious_ battle was it not? It is ironic that my assassin would be the one to help cement my name in history. However, I'm afraid that you have come too late to claim your vengeance. The man that you are after no longer exists."

Tho nodded in the direction of the fireplace. Snake-Eyes looked to see Tho's katana displayed prominently above the mantle.

That night, all those years ago, changed me. I retired my sword, never to use it again. The war has taken so much from me: my son; my humanity. I imagine the same could be said for you, great warrior.

Tho walked around to the edge of the desk and leaned against it to rest. Snake-Eyes continued to stare at the katana – as if mesmerized.

"_Vengeance_…she is very seductive isn't she. She injects you with a thirst for revenge and then bathes in ecstasy under the radiance of your hate. It is nigh impossible for a man to divorce himself once he has fallen prey to her wiles. I leave you with a warning: when she has had her fill, you will become like me - a broken old man trying to repay his spirit debt."

Snake-Eyes mused. There was truth in his words. As he gazed upon the sword mounted above the mantle, memories started to flood back from that fateful day.

As soon as he turned his back, Tho sneered. This was the opening that he was waiting for. He reached under the rim of his desk and pulled out a ninjato. From a standing leap he covered the length of the desk with the grace of a swan and the silence of the butterfly – his sword poised to sever Snake-Eye's spine.

At the last possible moment, Tho detected movement, followed by a gleam of light reflected off polished metal. Instinctively, he jerked his head back just in time to dodge Snake-Eyes' katana – the blade planed upwards in front of his face, missing the tip of his nose by less than an inch.

Tho alit on the ground in a prime position: Snake-Eyes was left over extended from his attack. He _kiai'd_ excitedly as he brought his sword arm down to splay his enemy. He almost stumbled when the usual impedance of flesh and bone did not slow his blade. He swung again – this time to decapitate - to no avail. He looked to the sword and gasped. Where his weapon should be was instead a bloody stump of a forearm spurting blood. He looked around and found his ninjato on the floor – his severed hand still white-knuckled around the hilt. Apparently, Snake-Eyes did not miss after all. He slumped to his knees and grabbed his wrist to stop the bleeding.

"Most Impressive...But I deny you your vengeance. Slit my throat and watch me laugh as I spit upon thee with my final breath. My legacy will remain long after you have turned to dust!"

Snake-Eyes picked him up and slammed his face on the desktop. He then forced his head to face the TV screen. Tho watched the newscast from Germany. There was a crowd gathered around a huge stone wall. The atmosphere was festive as pieces of the wall were brought down to the cheers of the spectators. He looked on to see people on both sides come together with tears of joy in the spirit of brotherhood. He laughed when he finally comprehended the point Snake-Eye's was trying to make.

"If you think that this wall coming down will make _any _difference, then you are a fool!"

Snake-Eyes grabbed him by the hair and led him to the fireplace. He then took his stump and put it into the fire. Tho winced as the heat seared his flesh – cauterizing the wound. Snake-Eyes stood him up, pinned his arms behind his back and handcuffed him.

"What are you doing?"

Snake-Eyes pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and presented it. Tho focused his eyes to read the paper in the dim light:

UNITED NATIONS WAR CIMES TRIBUNAL

OFFICIAL SUMMONS

CASE NO: WCTR-1975-67-I

ACCUSED: GENERAL THO

After reading the header he scoffed, "I was wrong. You are not a fool…you are a _waste!_"

Tho's fortress was bordered to the north by an impassable precipice buffered by a dense jungle. It was a superior obstacle than any manmade wall. He left the suite unseen, with Tho in tow, and entered the thick bush.

"How do you plan on spiriting me away from here _great warrior_? There is an army to your back and a perilous cliff to your front."

Snake-Eyes ignored him. He took a small transponder out of his pocket and flipped it on before putting it away. Halfway through the jungle, they came to a clearing on top of a big rock. He sat Tho down and scanned the area using the infrared attachment built into his visor.

He heard leaves rustling in the distance. _Is it the wind? No…someone else is here._ He drew his sword and peered in the shadows.

Tho impatiently rolled his eyes as he shouted at the darkness, "You might as well come out. He knows your there."

A masked figure stepped out from hiding into the clearing. When he came closer into view, Snake-Eyes tensed and gripped his katana tighter. It was Firefly.

"It's been a long time Snakes. I want to thank you for gift-wrapping Tho for me; you made my job a whole lot easier. All I had to do was follow the trail you left to get in here. I'm afraid I can't let you kidnap Tho."

Tho laughed as he walked over to Firefly. Snake-Eyes did not protest, but he kept his guard up.

"It's about time you got here, Firefly. Whatever Destro paid you, it was too much! If this fool _had_ taken me before the _international courts_, I would have taken everyone else down with me."

He sneered as he presented the rope binding his arms, "Now, hurry up and cut me…"

"As you wish General."

Firefly drew the sword sheathed to his back. He then unceremoniously plunged the sword into Tho's belly and ran it through to the hilt. Tho's eyes widened in surprise. He whimpered in shock as he grabbed onto Firefly's shoulder.

Firefly looked him in the eyes as he turned the sword, "Here's the thing General, although Cobra _did_ approach me to rescue you, the CIA's bid to _eliminate_ you was much higher."

He pulled the sword out, spun around, and chopped Tho's head off on the return.

He turned to Snake-Eyes, "I had hoped they would send you...We have some unfinished business."

They circled each other in the open clearing – the swordfight had begun. Firefly noticed that Snake-Eyes was eyeing the exotic weapon he held in his hand.

"Do you like it? I had it custom made just for you. It's harder than steel and has a micro-fine edge," he said, as he twirled the sword with uncommon dexterity. The blade seemed to sing as it cut the air in his expert hands. "You see, I've been waiting 15 years for payback. Ever since your unit took out my men, I've been on the run from the agency, afraid to show my face. Yet, as you have just seen, I still do _odd jobs_ for them from time-to-time – under an assumed name of course. In a way I owe you thanks; working freelance has been very lucrative."

Firefly rushed him, swinging wide with his sword. Snake-Eyes easily side-stepped the _phony_ attack designed to bait him before he was ready. Firefly laughed, mocking as he pointed the tip of his blade.

"I've been watching you, studying all your moves; preparing for the day when we would finally meet. I examined every bit of video footage made of you. I've analyzed your methods so as to beat you at your own game. You've been busy – apparently I'm not the only one who wants you dead. I found no shortage of clients over the years who were willing to train me, on retainer, in all aspects of Martial Arts. After I take you out, I'm going to go after the rest of your men down the line. My only regret is I wasn't able to gut your man in Cholon myself."

Snake-Eyes' body tensed noticeably. An audible hiss escaped his lips.

"…Oh c'mon, don't act so surprised – how do you think Tho was able to mount such a thorough counter-attack so soon. The CIA was well aware of your mission. We were supposed to have pulled out before you arrived. After we fought at their base camp, his men intercepted me less than five clicks from my LZ. I needed to buy time to plan my escape. So, in exchange for my life, I fed them information about K Company. I told them where you where based and about the _men_ in your unit."

Snake-Eyes had heard enough, he exploded into action. Taking the high-guard, he swung as hard as he could. Firefly swung back to block. Swords clashed: the shockwaves reverberated all the way down their arms. Firefly parried a lunge made for his abdomen. When Snake-Eyes spun around for another lunge, Firefly spun in the opposite direction to _slap_ the blade out of the line of attack. There was nothing _phony_ about these strikes: Snake-Eyes was aiming to kill.

"Not the opening I expected from you," he said, panting between the blocks. "But I _like_ your attitude!"

Firefly's balaclava hid his arrogant smile. He knew he had the advantage. Snake-Eyes had made three critical errors. First, the fury of his attacks would quickly start to whittle away at his energy reserves. Secondly, setting the pace of the fight in such a manner allowed Firefly to lure him to exactly where he wanted him to be. Last, and most critical, he allowed himself to become angry - anger compromises control.

Firefly did not know what he said to incur such ire, but he had every intention of capitalizing on it. He gave ground - leading them to the side of a muddy embankment. Snake-Eyes' attacks were starting to lose some of their sting. The last slash hung in the air for a quarter of second too long: plenty of time for Firefly to duck it and land a kick to his midsection.

Snake-Eyes stumbled back out of range. While he caught his breath, he reached under his sleeve and pulled out a trio of throwing stars.

Firefly let his wrist go limp. Swinging his arm violently, he flailed his sword as a whip to deflect the projectiles. He charged, dragging his sword along the side of the muddy embankment.

Snake-Eyes had his katana at the ready. In his mind, he had mapped the spot on Firefly's throat where he would plant his sword as soon as he came within range.

At the last second, Firefly twisted his wrist – causing the width of his sword to scrape against the earthen wall. He whipped his sword around – throwing a glob of mud dead center in Snake-Eyes' face.

Snake-Eyes gasped when the world suddenly became dark. He instinctively wiped his visor against his sleeve. Now, instead of darkness, everything was a blurry smear. Blinded, he raised his sword to defend the most likely area of attack using Firefly's last known position as a point of reference.

He was relieved when metal clashed against metal, _you lucky fool!_

He jumped out of range and snapped off his visor. He saw Firefly reach for a device on his wrist and push a button.

Every fiber of his being told him to move. He leapt with all of his strength just in time to avoid:

KA-BOOM!

Snake-Eyes staggered to his feet after landing in soft patch of shrubs. He struggled to bring his eyes into focus. He could barely make out the sounds of Firefly's laughter as he taunted him.

"Concussion blast: not lethal from medium range, but still a hell of a kicker."

With Snake-Eyes dazed and half-deaf, Firefly saw this is as his opportunity to strike. An alarm sounded in the distance - the noise from the explosion had already alerted the guards to their position. He had one chance to take out Snake-Eyes with everything he had.

Snake-Eyes shook his head to abate the ringing in his ears. He smelled the air and whipped his head around. The stench of Firefly's _Qi_ brought him out of his stupor like smelling-salts. However it was too late; all he could do as Firefly vaulted into the air was raise his sword. Firefly brought his sword down – putting behind it all of his rage and all of his hate. A split second before their weapons touched, Snake-Eyes knew that his katana would not hold. He turned his wrist so that the _flat_ of his sword would meet the edge of the blade – in hopes of distributing the force along a wider area. It was not enough: Firefly split the katana in two and sunk his sword into Snake-Eyes' shoulder. Fortunately, the power dissipated by the sword-break, coupled with his body armor, was enough to keep the sword from penetrating his flesh.

He grabbed Firefly's sword-arm and pulled his sleeve back to reveal the remote detonator strapped to his wrist. He pushed the red button.

Firefly looked at him in horror, "You fool! That's the failsafe!"

All of Firefly's hidden explosives blasted around them. Snake-Eyes pulled Firefly on top of him as the ground shook. Snake-Eyes covered his ears from the sounds of all _Hell_ breaking loose.

When the Earth was quiet again, they dug their way out from under the loose dirt and foliage that buried them. They coughed to clear the smoke out of their lungs. The footsteps from the guards could be heard converging on their position. They stared at each other as the guards came in to surround. They sheathed their swords - both men understanding that their personal reckoning would have to wait for another day.

The time for stealth was over. Both men split up and drew their firearms: Snake-Eyes with his twin UZIs and Firefly dual-wielding his MAC-11s. Bullets flew everywhere. Snake-Eyes lost sight of Firefly as he disappeared into the bush and, with him, half of the enemy contingent. The other half bore down on him and pinned him behind a rock as he reloaded.

During a break in the gunfire, Snake-Eyes came from behind cover and sprayed bullets indiscriminately into the guards. The guards _blindfired_ back and threw their grenades. He slipped past the first volley – handspringing and flipping about to avoid the ordnance with ridiculous agility.

He pushed past their lines to take them out at close range. Three guards drew their swords and rushed him. Snake-Eyes emptied his left UZI into them. Before he could reload his left UZI, a fourth guard charged with his katana. Snake-Eyes blocked with the right UZI. The sword embedded itself into the barrel and held fast, trapping it. Snake-Eyes ejected the clip from his right. Before the magazine hit the ground, he kicked it back up with his foot and caught it in midair with the_ shaft_ in his left. He brought the reloaded UZI under his arm and blasted the last guard.

No sooner had he secured his position when he heard more guards coming from over the ridge. He sprinted from the embankment and headed for the ledge. Bullets shot around him as he jumped over the side of the cliff.

The guards ran to the ledge and looked into waters far below. There was no sign of him. They all cheered – if the dive didn't finish him, then the undertow of the waves crashing against the rocks would certainly seal his fate.

A few miles out to open sea, a SHARC broke the surface of the waters. It flew into the sky at subsonic speed and sped off into the Pacific sunset.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

_tick…tick…tick…tick…_

Jinx couldn't believe how quickly the day passed by. Today was the deadline to turn in her pre-audit sheet. She dreaded the final meeting with Jenkins and put it off for the end of her shift.

"Akamatsu, in my office."

A chill went down her spine when Jenkins called her. She gathered her papers and decided to knuckle down and get this over with.

_tick…tick…_SPROING!

As smile of satisfaction came across her face as she left for Jenkins' office – leaving her letter opener embedded deep into the clock face.

Jenkins watched her enter and stand at attention in front of his desk before saying, "Is your pre-audit sheet ready?"

She handed him the paperwork and stood at ease in front of his desk. He skimmed it briefly before eyeing her intently over the top of the pages.

"So, according to this, the ten million dollars has disappeared?"

She kept her eyes focused forward, "Not disappeared, rather, there was no discrepancy to begin with."

"What about your leads?"

"I was mistaken; there was nothing behind them. I now believe that a _glitch_ in the system caused the invoices to be double-posted."

Jenkins shook his head, "…Hawk got to you didn't he…Can't you see that he's using you?"

She glared at him, her eyes shaking, "Like you used me? You knew that you would never be able to get the information on your own. You needed someone who was already on the _inside_, someone with the tools to gather the information by _unconventional_ means, and someone who probably had an axe to grind with Hawk."

"I said from the beginning that you were an asset."

"You also said that my first priority should be to the United States. Do you hold yourself to the same ideal, or is this about mounting another general in your trophy case?"

Her lip started to tremble. She had been preparing that speech in her head all day. She was afraid of how it would finally come across – the last thing she needed was to be brought up on charges of insubordination.

For the first time, Jenkins scaled back from his usual gruff demeanor, "…Maybe…but _I_ never _lied_ to you."

She sighed. "Look…you're right, I found the money. But I went to General Hawk first. He explained himself and I believe him. He didn't order me to keep quiet; I'm _choosing_ to because if the secret got out it would hurt the country."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Fine."

"Sir?" she said, nonplussed.

"You're the one running this audit. If you feel that there's no basis to continue with it, then I must accept that."

She blinked in disbelief, "Thank you sir."

Before he dismissed her he added, "Oh by the way, next time tell Hawk to clean up after himself. And if any more of these _phantom invoices_ come across my department, I trust that _you_ will keep them _off_ my desk."

She left the office, relieved but also guilty for underestimating him. She made it a point not to be so quick to judge others in the future. All in all, she was pleased with the way things turned out. She walked over to the elevator. As she waited in the lobby, she eyed a grasshopper crawling on the wall next to her.

"Sorry about the _rubber-band_ thing," she said with a smirk.

She sighed - as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Things were finally starting to look up. With a new set of responsibilities under her belt, she no longer felt like such an outcast. As such, she never understood why everyone took her operative name so literally - she always knew that she wasn't unlucky. Maybe at her next review, she'll put in a request for a new code name.

When the elevator doors opened, she gasped. Stalker was standing in the car. The expression on his face was emotionless, save for his eyes glaring at her. She stood there frozen, holding her breathe. Several seconds passed, neither person moved nor spoke.

As the doors started to close, Stalker pressed the 'open' button, "Are you getting in or not?"

"…I'll take the next car sir—"

The impatience became increasingly apparent in his voice. "Nonsense. There's plenty of room in here."

She walked in sheepishly. She knew there would be a reckoning with Stalker after their last encounter. However, she didn't expect it to be so soon. She kept her eyes facing forward as the doors came to a close. Maybe he won't bother to mention the incident--

"I just got one thing to say to you _Ms. cheap shot_…"

She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, not knowing what to expect.

"…is Amy seeing anyone?" he asked.

Her eyes opened. Confusion washed over her face. "Amy?"

"Yes, she's the contractor that works with you in finance, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Is she _involved_?"

"Uhm, I don't think so sir."

"I see…Do you think you could put a _good word_ in for me?"

She blushed, saying, "I don't think that would be appropriate sir."

"You're right of course…I just thought that you would want to return the _favor_ that you owe me—"

"Favor?"

He shrugged. "Yea, for _allowing_ you to pull off that hand-cuff trick so you could _save-face_."

Exasperated, she turned to face him – her mouth agape, ready to chew him out. However, when she saw the grin on his face and the twinkle in his eye, she bit her lip and looked away – trying desperately not to laugh. The only other person who could make her lose her cool like this was Falcon, _What is it with Green Berets and their practical jokes?_

"Oh, is that how you remember it?" She said with a wry smile. "Then I guess I am in your debt."

"Just make sure that when you talk me up that you mention that I'm not only humble, but also a great dancer – especially when _hopping_ on one foot."

She put her hands on her hips, "Well, I haven't exactly _agreed_ to do it yet sir."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because I _like_ Amy."

He snorted. "Ouch."

While keeping the mood light, a serious tone entered her voice as she said, "One condition: teach me how to sign."

Stalker regarded her, nonplussed. His brow furrowed at first, but then his eyes softened as the reason for her request dawned on him, "You drive a hard bargain."

The smile on her lips sealed the deal. The elevator came to a stop on his floor and he got off when the doors opened. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he left the lobby.

"…anyone ever tell you that you're a hard person to _break the ice_ with…"

She scrunched her nose playfully and waved goodbye as the doors came to a close.

--oOo—

Snake-Eyes wiped the sweat from his brow. He was tired from the long trip back to headquarters, but he had no time to rest. After submitting his report to General Hawk, he went straight to the lab. He called in a few favors to get a room by himself. That way he could have _carte blanch_e access to all of the equipment. He turned his broken sword over on the examination table under the hot lights for one final sweep. He adjusted the magnifier on his visor attachment and zoomed in on the jagged end. Using the micro-tweezers, he pulled out the last fleck of metal embedded into the serrated edge and dropped it into a Petri dish. In all, he found twenty such flecks. He divided them into two piles. The first pile was sealed inside of a ceramic container which he then placed inside of an inter-office envelope addressed to 'metallurgy'. The second pile was placed inside of magnetic lock-box. He then flipped the switch on the spectrometer and waited for it to warm up. As the equipment hummed in operation, he sat down and relaxed.

Having his mind off of his work allowed him to reach down and find his _center_. When he did so, he became aware that he was not alone. He bolted from his chair; his muscles tensed for battle as he scanned the ceiling where he saw Jinx in the rafters.

When he spotted her, she slid down a nearby column and faced him. "Hi…sorry. I found out you where here and I didn't know how else to approach you."

Snake-Eyes walked up to her, stood next to the column and rapped it with his knuckles.

She blushed, "You're right I should have knocked…_Moushiwake-arimasen,_" she said, bowing her head.

Snake-Eyes tensed as she started speaking in Japanese, and adapting her mannerisms accordingly. When she approached, she noticed that Snake-Eyes still had his hand clenched next to the throwing stars on his wrist. In response, she removed her jacket and threw it on a chair. She then removed the pin that cropped her hair and dropped it on the ground. Her hair fell around her shoulders and over her chest. Using her fingers, she brushed her bangs away from her eyes and smoothed her hair down her back. She presented herself to him submissively to show that she was unarmed. Snake-Eyes acquiesced and put his weapons aside.

"I mean you no harm…_Preacher_."

She held her breathe. She wasn't sure if her guess was right, but his double-take was all the confirmation that she needed.

"So it's true…The real Snake-Eyes died back in Saigon. Hawk must have forged the paperwork and _classified _the serial numbers in order to protect you."

He tilted his head at her quizzically. In response, she placed a piece of paper on the table next to him. He picked it up and unfolded it. He recognized the _Kanji_ in his handwriting that translated to English as:

YOU ARE NOT NINJA

"It was this note you passed to me in the elevator: the manner and eloquence with which it was written are details that either an adept native speaker, _or a_ _linguist_, would pay attention to. It didn't dawn on me until _after_ I read your service record with Kilo Company."

A quiet snort escaped his nostrils as he regarded the note – in retrospect, it was such an obvious mistake.

"When I was growing up, there was a story going around: a tale about a warrior slain by a Ninja master atop a great Pagoda. After the battle, the warrior was resurrected by a Chinese wizard using black magic. The warrior was doomed to walk the earth as a shadow; a destroyer of ninjas." She smiled after a brief introspection, "I always thought it was a story that my grandmother made up in order to scare us into doing our chores and to keep us from staying out too late…but there is some truth behind it isn't there?"

He nodded as he folded the note and handed it back to her.

"I now understand why you wrote this: you know that I am _not_ your enemy because you have seen into my soul, _The keenest eye is the eye that looks inward_."

He nodded again.

She stood even closer. She tentatively placed her palms over his liver meridian, just close enough to feel his energy _without_ touching him. She tentatively worked her way over to his heart:

"You are hurt and I wish to help you."

He clasped his hands over hers and gently pulled away. He took out his notebook and pen and wrote her another note – this time in English:

_You don't know me._

She advanced upon him again, backing him up against the column. Keeping her movements gentle, she removed the visor from his mask so as to look into his eyes:

"…Not true: as you have seen _me_, likewise I have seen _you_…"

She gently bit her bottom lip as she unclasped the mask at the base of his neck. He didn't resist as she peeled it up around his chin and over his nose. She paused to caress his lips with her thumbs:

"…Your aura is scarred. _Yin and Yang_ are out of balance. And yet…"

He closed his eyes as she removed his mask. She ran her fingers across his shaven head. She continued to feel the contours around his eyes and cheeks. He looked much younger that his age. His face was flawless - protected from the years of sun damage under his mask. It was like touching newborn skin:

"…you are so beautiful."

Her fingertips felt so soft when they brushed against his face. Her Asian eyes looked upon him with a countenance that was so angelic that he was compelled to reach out and touch her. She closed her eyes as his fingers graced her cheek and stroked her silky raven hair. She shuddered from the sensation of pins-and-needles as he ran his hand down over her spine and to the small of her back – feeling her energy without touching. She was so close that he could inhale the hot breathe from her pink lips. They stood there in synch, recycling each others Qi.

She moved in closer. His body spasmed involuntarily when she pressed against him. She was so warm – he had forgotten what it felt like. The way she tilted her head, it would have been so easy for him to lean in and touch his lips against hers. He closed his eyes as he inhaled her scent – she smelled so good.

Suddenly there was a rush of air and the heat dissipated. He opened his eyes; she was gone. He looked around to find that he was the only one in the room now. He might have dismissed the entire encounter as a dream were it not for the piece of paper that she left in his hand. The corners of his mouth turned up as he read it:

I AM NINJA

He put the note in his pocket and replaced his mask, covering up any evidence of the grin on his face – once again donning his invincible shield.

End Chapter 7

* * *

A/N: If you leave a review (and thank-you in advance), try not to spoil the surprise. :p


	8. Epilogue

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Ho Chi Minh City - May 1,1975

--oOo-- _Epilogue_ --oOo--

A transient, dressed in rags, ducked into an alleyway as NVA soldiers walked the streets. He kept his back bent in order to hide his stature. His face remained hidden under a wide-brimmed straw hat as he stayed in the shadows. Although the transfer of power was peaceful, there was still an air of tension among the people of the reborn city.

The transient walked into the graveyard. He maneuvered the maze of headstones until he reached two makers placed side-by-side - one of which was freshly dug.

…_My beloved wife and daughter. _

He took two flowers from under his poncho and placed one on each headstone. He took out a bible from his pocket and turned to a bookmarked passage. After straining to read it aloud in vain, he threw the book on the ground in frustration – unable to say his goodbyes properly.

_...I'm so sorry baby._

"You will find it quite impossible to speak."

Preacher snapped his head in the direction of the familiar voice. From the shadows, _OldMan_ came into view and approached him.

"I saw it when I looked into your eyes on that rooftop. You _hover_ between existence and non-existence - a spirit rooted to this earth by his grief - forever unable to commune with the living or the dead until that _grief_ is resolved…"

OldMan paused, regarding the headstones before continuing.

"…As such, I knew that you would eventually come here…DEFEND YOURSELF!"

Confused by the last part of his sentence, Preacher looked up too late to dodge a flying fist that OldMan planted across his jaw. Preacher fell to the ground – wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

"When I was younger I was an officer of the Manchu Imperial Guard – chosen to protect the last emperor of China. We were trained to be the_ perfect_ warriors. In order to make us better protectors, we were taught the art of assassination, because it takes an assassin to defeat an assassin."

Preacher bounced to his feet and charged. OldMan parried a punch, lifted his leg to shin-block a kick, and caught a haymaker aimed for head with his hand. Both men locked eyes as they stood there - fist and palm struggling in a tug-of-war.

"Shortly before the emperor's capture, I forsook my mandate for the love of a woman. We ran far away and made a life for ourselves. But, since I have betrayed my master, Karma has caught up to me – my wife, daughter and granddaughter have paid the price for my sins. As a result, I have abandoned my eldest daughter, lest she be met with the same fate. The only thing I have left to live for is _revenge_. And I have chosen _you_ as my instrument of vengeance!"

Preacher pushed off and broke free from OldMan's grasp. OldMan countered with a reverse-punch, which Preacher deftly parried, then followed it up with a kick to the head. However, Preacher brought his elbow down against the knee to jam the kick. He then connected with an uppercut that sent OldMan flying backwards.

OldMan rolled with the punch and recovered in a kneeling position. He grinned with approval and spat a tooth out onto the ground before continuing, "Out of all the disciplines that I have mastered, _Ninjutsu_ was the least tolerable. There is nothing lower than a Ninja. They have no _honor_. They have no _country_. _Greed_ is their master. Their _Qi_ is poisoned. If you ever face a Ninja, _know_ that he is your enemy!"

Both men charged. OldMan entered low with a spinning leg sweep. Preacher leapt into the air to avoid the sweep – his foot raised high for an ax-kick. OldMan launched himself upwards - spinning as he flailed his arms with his hands clawed. The first _claw_ swatted Preacher's kick aside; the follow-up came about and raked against his face – sending him spiraling to the ground.

"That was _The Windmill Tiger_: when performed correctly, there is no defense…I lost against that Ninja because I am _old_ and have allowed my skills to deteriorate. The Ninja defeated _you_, however, because you have honor; you fight for _love_. A ninja uses his enemies love in such a way that you cannot destroy _him_ without destroying _yourself_. The only defense against this 'invincible shield' technique is to _love_ nothing; to _feel_ nothing."

Enraged, Preacher rushed him. OldMan kicked him in the chest as he charged, but Preacher muscled through it and tackled him to the ground. They rolled to their feet, where Preacher managed to get a hold of OldMan's wrist. He cranked the wrist hard. OldMan crouched into the _stalking crane_ stance to relieve the pressure on his shoulder. As Preacher supinated the arm to it limit, OldMan suddenly rolled with the crank and ended up on his feet. Before Preacher could react, he sunk two fingers into the nerve cluster between the trapezius and collarbone.

Preacher winced as that side of his body became numb. It felt like fire shooting down to his toes. He slumped to the ground – his body bucked involuntarily in pain. He struggled to breathe, as his nervous system was short-circuited.

"_The Crane Hides the Cobra_: if I had struck with full Qi, you would be _truly_ dead now."

He stood over the prostrate Preacher as he writhed on the floor uncontrollably. He let him suffer as he walked back to the headstones. He kneeled over the markers and was suddenly overcome with grief as he started to weep.

"For the part that you played in the deaths of my daughter and granddaughter, I _curse_ you...you will walk the Earth as a shadow – a wraith. And you will kill...every...single...Ninja...that crosses your path until there are no more Ninja left to kill."

He walked back, turned Preacher over on his side and massaged two pressure points along the spine. Preacher stopped convulsing and his breathing returned to normal. The fight now over, OldMan helped Preacher to his feet.

"Your training begins in three weeks when you are fully healed. You will meet me here at the next full moon."

Preacher nodded and lowered his head in accordance with _etiquette_.

"Do not bow to me like some Japanese dog...I am _not_ your _Sensei_."

End Epilogue.

* * *

A/N: I know this is the "epilogue", but you still have one more chappie to go.


	9. Prologue

GI JOE Season 3: episode 2

"Invincible Shield"

Haghartsin Monastery – February 13, 1981

--oOo-- _Prologue_ --oOo--

Hawk shivered and drew his jacket in tighter as he tread the edge of a rocky slope. He had just got off a three-hour bus ride after a ten-hour layover in the Vienna airport. The sun was just coming over the mountains as rays of light started to dart into the canyon below. It was a beautiful view – he might have enjoyed it more if it was thirty degrees warmer. As he walked down the dusty trail, he started to see a tall domed structure peek out from behind the trees. It was decorated by arches and supported by columns that lined each face at its base. The path led him into the entrance of the ancient monastery – the grey and white colored stone was offset by the plush green vines that scaled the walls of the many buildings. The grounds were neatly manicured, suggesting that there is a community here responsible for the upkeep of the complex.

He knocked on the door. After a few minutes, an old monk answered. Hawk introduced himself and showed the monk a picture of Preacher. The monk took the picture and closed the door behind him. Hawk waited another ten minutes before the door opened again. This time a younger monk appeared to greet him.

"Good Morning, I am Brother Dajad, Abbot of this monastery. What can I do for you?"

Hawk noticed that the Abbot held the picture of Preacher in his hand. "My name is Clayton Abernathy. I am looking for the man in that picture."

The Abbot's eye's widened, "You are _The Hawk_?"

Hawk nodded, grinning at the designation.

Dajad led Hawk inside the church. The antechamber was a long stone-laden walkway in which various stain-glass sculptures adorned the walls.

"You have a beautiful place here Brother Dajad."

"We are just doing God's work. _Mister Preacher_ visits us occasionally in order to meditate. He insists on earning his keep by doing odd jobs and chores."

"So I take it that Preacher has told you all about me?"

"He has not _told_ me anything, but rather relayed it in writing."

"_In writing_?" he asked, with a puzzled expression.

"Like the other priests here, Mr. Preacher has undergone a _vow of silence_. _Unlike_ the others, however, it appears that _his_ was a vow made by _attrition_. I only pray that one day he trusts God to ease his burden, for _His_ yoke is light."

Dajad left Hawk at the door leading to a small cell. Dajad returned the photo to Hawk and said his goodbyes. Hawk knocked on the door. After some shuffling inside, the door opened. A figure in a dark hooded robe stood before him in the doorway. The figure removed his hood.

Hawk greeted him with a weak smile, "Hello Preacher, if you don't ask me how I managed to find you, I won't ask you what you're doing here in an Armenian monastery."

Preacher stood aside and let Hawk enter. It was a small drafty room with a single cot against the far wall. Across from the door, there was a window overlooking the forest outside. In the corner, at the foot of the cot, all of Preacher's possessions were contained inside of an Army duffle bag.

"I've been trying to keep tabs on you; you dropped off the grid for a while. For what it's worth, I'm glad that you're alright."

Preacher did not respond. He retrieved the drawing pad on his cot. He then walked over to the window and picked up a black grease-pencil from the tray on the window-sill. He looked outside to the forest as he scratched the pencil across the paper. Hawk leaned over to see the unfinished drawing of a _timber wolf_ in the foliage.

"Your private war on Asian crime families is stepping on quite a few toes. You have a lot of people looking for you. I suppose I would be wasting my breath trying to convince you how _foolish_ this crusade of yours is."

The only response Hawk got was a glare out of the corner of Preacher's eyes. Hawk stepped back at a respectful distance.

"The Abbot warned me that you can't – or won't speak."

Preacher shook his head in answer.

"Why not? Is it physiological? Post-traumatic?"

Preacher shrugged his shoulders, almost as an afterthought to Hawk's question.

Hawk's expression softened as he looked down to the floor at his feet. "I'm so sorry...for everything."

Preacher snorted as he looked away, out of the window, to resume his drawing.

"I know you don't _owe_ me anything…I haven't exactly been _sensitive_ to your situation…" He sighed nervously as he mused before saying, "On the way up here, I was trying to think of what I would say to you. Sometimes words can be a stumbling block when it comes to getting at the truth…"

Preacher continued to ignore him – focusing only on his art.

"What if I told you there was a way to find Tho."

For the first time, the sound of Preacher's pencil scratching across the paper stopped. Hawk continued when he had his attention.

"It turns out that CIA and DIA both got it wrong: Destro and Tho were merely middle-men. We believe that the real player is a man, as of yet, unseen. He's winning over scores disillusioned and expatriated military professionals under a rallying cry of _anti-establishment_ rhetoric. Finding this _shadow commander_ could give you a lead into tracking down Tho."

Preacher tore a fresh sheet from his drawing pad. He selected the _red_ grease-pencil from the tray and started to draw on the paper. After a quick sketch, he showed the drawing to Hawk: a crude depiction of a cobra.

"Yes, that's their banner," he said in surprise. "You've had some dealings with them during your sabbatical?"

Preacher nodded as he put the drawing away.

"In a few short years, he has managed to amass the _fifth largest_ army in the world. His lieutenants are a motley crew of international gangsters with no clear prior affiliation. However, the scariest thing of all is, we have no idea how he's funding this. He pays mainly in rare gems and precious metals, yet we can find no evidence of mining operations or production facilities to sustain his cash flow. It's like this guy came out of nowhere with infinite resources at his disposal. As cheesy as it sounds, we believe that his ultimate aim is _world domination_."

Hawk saw that he still had Preacher's attention, although he appeared disinterested in what he was saying.

"In response to this threat, Kilo Company has been reactivated under new colors. It's now code-named GI JOE – in keeping with a _culture of anonymity_. Some of your old teammates have enlisted, but we're also pulling the best and the brightest from all of the other branches as well. Our main focus will be gathering intelligence, but I expect that these kids are gonna have to chew some serious dirt. They need practical training in combat situations. That's were you come in: you're the best battlefield commando I've ever seen. Also, judging from the path of destruction that you left all over Asia, it's apparent that you've acquired some new skills as well."

Hawk clenched his jaw. His words had been met by another _poker-face_ stare from Preacher. He decided to stop rambling and get to the point, without any more words getting in the way.

"Will you come back to The States with me? Will you be _my_ secret weapon?"

Without a pause, Preacher nodded in affirmation. Hawk was taken aback by his quick reply.

He stood up straight. "There's one small complication. There would no doubt be questions raised with you coming back after six years of being AWOL. I'll have to get _creative_ when I submit your enlistment papers. For your protection, I'll _classify_ your real name and your serial number, but you'll need to choose a _new_ code-name for yourself."

Preacher put the pad on the cot. He walked over to his duffle bag and pulled out a small drawstring. He then came over and put the contents of the purse in Hawks hand.

A smile came across Hawk's face when he unfolded his palm. He stared at the dice in his hand; two single pips stared back at him.

"I think _he_ would have liked that."

Hawk reached out and offered Preacher his hand. Preacher reached back and shook it: he was no longer Preacher:

"Welcome to the team…_Snake-Eyes_."

The End.

Next Episode: 3.0 - "Chain of Command"

* * *

Author's Challenge: Knowing what you know now, go back and see if you catch any clues that you missed the first time around.


End file.
